77 posts tagged “politics”

The Council for Democratic Reform under Constitutional Monarchy (CDRM) is off to an excellent start, especially with the endorsement of our revered King and support from an overwhelming 83.9% of Thais from all walks of life, nationwide (source: Suan Dusit poll). As its name states, the purpose of the CDRM's existence and that of the interim government it is forming is to implement political reform which will promote democracy.

To have government of the people, by the people and for the people, I suggest that it institutionalise broad participation by ordinary citizens in making important decisions so that our government reflects the needs of we the people, not those of any narrow group.

For example, it should aid private parties in forming a not-for-profit, nonpartisan political organisation like the US League of Women Voters, whose mission is to encourage the informed and active participation of citizens in government, work to increase understanding of major public policy issues, and influence public policy through education and advocacy.

Also, in all things, the watchword should be transparency - whether it be in appointing the interim government, investigating corruption by public servants and ministers, revising our Constitution, or organising elections. We have a golden opportunity to make our democracy more robust than ever before, more responsive to we the people than ever before. Let's not let this chance slip by, for it's one in a million.

BURIN KANTABUTRA

Bogus champions of democracy

I find it pretty irritating that the United States is condemning our coup when their own government was taken over some time ago by militarists who have constantly frightened the populace, bullied their critics, spied on everyone, started two wars which have killed tens of thousands, operated secret prisons, tortured people, and denied people the right of habeas corpus, etc, all in the name of fighting terrorism and defending democracy.

The fear-mongering, illegal and bullying actions of this military junta wearing civilian suits in the US is far more damaging to the ideals of democracy in the world than any coup here could ever be. And it is we who should be reviewing our relations with them, because it is a big black mark on our history that Thaksin sacrificed some of our brave soldiers when he cooperated with them in the illegal occupation of Iraq.

DISGUSTED

Ignorant White House

So the Bush administration condemns the coup. The US is again showing ignorance in dictating policy to a foreign government without bothering to study the situation. They talk about democracy but do they know what it means? Thaksin was destroying the democratic system in this country. He was intimidating dissenters and using his power to discredit his opponents while maintaining his popularity through money and propaganda among the rural poor. At the time of the coup, Thailand was on the verge of violence and was no longer able to select a government by general election.

It is time the US started recognising the difference between real democracy and corrupt manipulators of the political system. It is time the Bush administration started wanting what is good for the people of the world and not only what serves their own immediate interests.

MALCOLM SCHAVERIEN

Thaksin and his govt

The latest coup was so well-timed it must have left the PM with no options but to hole up in London, lost. I can just hear him reeling orders to vague emptiness over AIS and the lines jamming. His demise will be shown by just how much corruption his government did to damage Thailand and its people. He was too greedy to pay taxes, yet he lives in the ways of people like Marcos and Sukarno, whose tactics were exactly the same: manipulate the poor and you have the country at your knees. Power and greed surpassed all expectations to lead to his eventual demise - as it does with them all.

All Thaksin had to do was donate a billion baht to the Thai people from the tax he never paid, and he would have been rewarded as a hero to live comfortably on the interest he would have received from the rest of his billions. Instead he stayed on the path of power at all costs.

I commend our armed forces for their move to restore Thailand back to normality. Well done, and right on time.

SOMCHAI L

Well done, Gen Sonthi

I got a call from a friend in the US expressing concern about the recent military coup d'etat. I asked him, what coup d'etat he was talking about? He said the coup he saw on CNN and other news networks. I told him what he saw was not a real coup. It was a Hollywood production that was shooting in Bangkok.

The scene called for a welcome takeover of power from the caretaker government by the armed forces: tanks and soldiers carrying M16s roaming the streets of Bangkok during the early morning hours; beautiful temples and Buddhist monks serving as a backdrop, drizzling rain making the streets wet - perfectly surreal by Hollywood standards.

Later on in the day, people come out and applaud the soldiers for a successful takeover and give them flowers, food and drinks. Kids ride up on their bicycles to get a closer look at the tanks, with the soldiers accommodating them. Tourists take pictures in front of the tanks with smiling faces. The whole time, not a single shot is fired and no one feels threatened by the situation. It is a peaceful takeover of power with much support from the people. A few hours later, the director declares the movie a wrap.

My friend asked me what is the name of the movie. I said I didn't know, but if it was up to me, I'd call it Amazing Thailand. Well done, General Sonthi Boonyaratkalin.

SUPREECHA D

The best possible move

I would like to address the leaders mentioned in the article "International leaders speak out against military coup" (Bangkok Post, Sept 21). As an expat living in Thailand for the past 18 years, I must say I feel more safe today than I did a week ago. One reason was the potential of conflict between the PAD and Thaksin supporters. Another reason is the situation in the South, which has only got worse under the Thaksin regime, and which I now believe will certainly improve with Thaksin out of the picture.

Some of these countries, such as Australia, New Zealand, Malaysia and others, have advised their countrymen to avoid travelling to Thailand. This is foolish advice. There is no rioting. The military coup leaders are not threatening the public, people on the streets are all in favour of the change, and we expats are in no trouble with the authorities whatsoever.

Although coups are not the favoured way of changing governments, in this case, since Thaksin had not clearly stated his plans for the future, leaving the country in disarray and continuing to reject calls to retire from government, the coup was the best move possible to contain the problems.

What the people of Thailand need now is understanding and support from friendly governments; not for governments to advise people to stay away.

CHARLIE BROWN

Pattaya

Tourist in London

So Mr Thaksin and his family are all in London, again. Does anybody know how many times he's been to London recently? Let's hope that he is not excluded for 90 days the next time he tries to enter the UK.

A CONCERNED EXPAT

Much hope for South

Sanitsuda Ekachai's commentary of Sept 21 posed a question whether there should now be hope for the southernmost region under the watch of a new strongman, Army Commander-in-Chief Sonthi Boonyaratkalin, a Muslim. My answer is a resounding yes. Where else in the world can one find a country with her population predominantly believing in one religion have its military force be vested in the hand of a person believing in another faith? Without an iota of doubt, all the Muslim population in Thailand must now be very proud of their fellow man in a country open-minded enough to recognise a man's ability irrespective of his faith or appearance.At one time, our chief of the Supreme Court was a Sikh, one minister of finance was a Christian and the current auditor-general is also a Christian. There seems to be something right about this country.

Talks between two Muslims would definitely be more accommodating. I am even more confident when I read in your breaking news of the reactions of one chief of the Pattani freedom fighters (Pulo) welcoming Gen Sonthi and optimistic of the resolution since he viewed the general as the only one who knows the real problems. In the past, Pulo has never said anything nice about Thailand.

Not only are Thai skies clearer now, there is also the bonus of an achievable peace in the South.

It is doubly gratifying to hear of Gen Sonthi's commitment to stay in power for only two weeks, with an interim civilian government lasting not more than one year to pave the way for an improved democracy by October 2007.

SONGDEJ PRADITSMANONT

Perfect timing So

Thaksin has fled to London, where he bought a mansion only weeks ago. I only hope he is politely asked by the British to find somewhere else to hide.

To quote Thaksin: "On my way here [to New York] I was prime minister. On my way back I'm jobless... If they don't want me to work, it's okay. I won't."

Well, excuse me Mr Thaksin, you were not prime minister; you were a caretaker. Your sophistry knows no bounds. Jobless? Jobless, Mr Thaksin? Your choice of words is astonishing. You didn't do a day's work in your life, save for robbing the Kingdom of Thailand to such an extent that the military had to step in to oust you.

To their credit, the military's move was faultless, expertly timed to cause Thaksin maximum international embarrassment; they waited until he was out of the kingdom at a high-profile UN meeting and then they swooped. Now that's what I call military planning. Thaksin, you are history. A foot-in-the-mouth note in history.

To see pictures of Thai and farang handing smiling troops red roses and yellow ribbons warms the heart. And not a drop of blood spilt. We must hope that similar bloodless coups happen on Capitol Hill and at Downing Street; they are sorely needed in more places than just Thailand.

ANON IN UDON

An assumption

Most foreign governments seem to be critical of the coup in Thailand having abrogated Thai democracy. Presumably these governments would also assume democracy exists in Singapore. I rest my case.

DALLAS FIELD

Insulting, incorrect

I have read with special interest the analysis from local and Western media on recent events in Bangkok. The International Herald Tribune published an editorial condemning the Thai Army C-in-C and added a column by Phillip Bowring espousing his expertise on Thailand and the monarchy. Both were insulting and factually incorrect.

Local media and especially the street mob which had been demanding army intervention both seemed less than enthusiastic with the result. The core of those in the street were not handed their much desired "People's Republic" or any seat of power. The army commander moved not only to remove the PM, but to preclude politicians and the mobs from dividing the military into political wings. He seemed to understand how this invited a bloodbath with weaponry able to devastate the major cities.

The Left and politicians are always ready to demand the army stay out of politics and equally ready to demand the military remove someone they do not like. The IHT claims nothing good ever came from military coups and taking power. They have not considered "Pa Prem". The very place this kingdom occupies in Asia and the social and economic advances made may be rightly laid at the feet of Gen Prem, acting always with clear royal advice.

The ship of state has weathered the storm once again. The army will hand over power to either an interim appointed government or one elected. They will return to barracks and hope the next group taking the elected reins does not allow that power to corrupt or turn them into ignorant/arrogant snobs who refuse to listen to sage advice.

Who will be dissatisfied by the result? The mob, with its dream of a socialist state and the Phillip Bowrings of the world, who set themselves up as experts on things they obviously know little about.

MAJOR MARK A. SMITH

US Army, Retired

Poking around

If a parallel situation occurred in the US with an identical sequence of events such as a president who made billion-dollar deals with foreign companies and paid no tax, or found a way to dissolve Congress whenever it wanted to consider an impeachment process, I can assure you that half a million or so rednecks with shotguns would besiege the White House and escort the gentleman to the border.

The US is doing itself no service by poking around in a situation it does not understand. Further, I don't believe the Bush administration can afford to lose any more friends. JOHN ARNONE Yasothon Nothing overthrown I would like to urge foreign dignitaries who have expressed their concern over what they call the overthrow of a democratically elected government in Thailand, to check their notes more carefully.

After the dissolution of parliament and the annulment of the April elections, Thailand did not really have a government, let alone a democratically elected one.

Thaksin & Co had simply continued to govern under the guise of a caretaker government, but without a clear mandate. There was no democracy in Thailand to overthrow on Tuesday, Sept 19, 2006.

CHA-AM JAMAL

Detroit Mayor Names Relative to Direct Construction.
Publication: Detroit Free Press (Detroit, Michigan) (via Knight-Ridder/Tribune Business News)
Publication Date: 03-JUL-02
Byline: M.L. Elrick

Jul. 3--Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick has appointed a second relative to a high-ranking post in his administration.

Ayanna Benson, a distant cousin, has replaced Quinette King as general manager of the Detroit Building Authority, Kilpatrick confirmed Tuesday. The mayor said Benson, a longtime city Planning and Development employee, is a second cousin of the mayor's father, Bernard Kilpatrick.

Earlier this year, Kilpatrick hired his uncle, Raymond Cheeks, to oversee Detroit's 10 neighborhood city halls. The Building Authority and neighborhood city halls jobs each pay between $59,300 and $89,000 annually, according to city records.

King, a 16-year veteran of the Building Authority, was appointed general manager eight years ago by then-Mayor Dennis Archer. Recently, Kilpatrick praised King at ceremonies marking the reopening of the Erma Henderson Marina and a ground-breaking for the Farwell Recreation Center.

The Building Authority oversees construction projects for many city departments, including police, fire, zoo and recreation. King said the authority, which is involved in about 60 projects, hires contractors and has a budget of about $200 million.

Asked if she resigned or was asked to leave by the mayor, King said, "It was a little bit of both." She would not elaborate.

Kilpatrick said Benson went through a rigorous interview process. "She's been with the city for 20 years, working in neighborhood development, understands development, planning," he said.

Benson did not return messages left at the Building Authority or the Planning and Development Department, where she last worked as executive manager of community and public services.

Other mayors have put relatives in key posts. Archer selected his sister-in-law, Beth DunCombe, to run the quasi-governmental Detroit Economic Growth Corp. Kilpatrick said he does not have any other relatives on the city payroll. In February, after hiring his uncle, the mayor said of his relatives: "I will not hesitate to put them in place if they're the best person."

City Councilwoman Sharon McPhail said she did not know Benson or whether she was qualified for the job, but said the mayor should not hire his relatives.

"The city ought to have an ethics ordinance that prohibits it," she said. "It just doesn't look good."

Detroit's New Head of City Construction Projects Has No Experience in Field.
Publication: Detroit Free Press (Detroit, Michigan) (via Knight-Ridder/Tribune Business News)
Publication Date: 11-JUL-02
Byline: M.L. Elrick

Jul. 11--New York City's building commissioner is a veteran of city construction projects, including managing the Ground Zero cleanup. In Chicago, the Public Building Commission honcho formerly ran a major city department.

Yet Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick's choice to oversee city construction projects ranging from renovations to the Great Apes Exhibit at the zoo to a possible new police headquarters has no such experience.

Newly appointed Detroit Building Authority Director Ayanna Benson, Kilpatrick's third cousin, has worked for the city for about 20 years, most recently as executive manager of the Planning and Development Department's neighborhood development division. That division worked with local organizations seeking community development block grants.

Spokeswoman Sylvia Crawford declined to discuss Benson's duties with the Planning and Development Department. Benson did not return calls seeking comment.

Kilpatrick has said he hired Benson, 51, after a rigorous interview process.

Benson, who will be paid $89,000, is one of eight staff members of the Detroit Building Authority, which manages construction projects for most city departments, initiating design, monitoring costs and overseeing contractors. The authority is also responsible for maintenance at 35 specially designated areas, including Harmonie Park and Greektown.

The authority currently oversees $200 million in projects, said former director Quinette King, who spent eight years in the agency before being named director eight years ago by then-Detroit Mayor Dennis Archer.

Benson's apparent lack of experience with construction or as a department head stands in contrast not only with her peers in other big cities, but with the heads of such efforts for the State of Michigan, the Detroit Public Schools and Wayne County.

In New York, Department of Design and Construction Commissioner Kenneth Holden, who oversees public building projects, worked his way through the city's building ranks. After serving as director of the mayor's Office of Construction, he became first deputy commissioner of the Department of Design and Construction.

Department spokesman John Spavins said Holden replaced a professional engineer. Spavins said there is no requirement that the commissioner be an engineer or architect, but city officials want someone with "a strong management background, a strong knowledge of capital construction procedures."

In Chicago, Public Building Commission Executive Director Eileen Carey is a former head of the city Department of Streets and Sanitation and the mayor's Constituent Services Office, said commission spokesman Jack Beary. He said there are no prerequisites for becoming director.

"She's an experienced administrator, that's her expertise," Beary said.

Michigan requires the overseer of state building projects to have specific qualifications. Okey Eneli, director of infrastructure services, is a certified professional engineer, said Penny Davis, spokeswoman for the Office of Management and Budget.

"Task- or skill-oriented jobs have specific requirements of a professional degree or experience in a given field," Davis said. "You don't want some Joe Schmoe that came out of college with an English degree taking a stab at this. ... These are all qualified people who have a background and knowledge geared to the tasks that they're doing."

Although they don't specify qualifications, Detroit Public Schools' and Wayne County's building efforts are led by people with experience in those fields.

Robert Francis, executive director of the Detroit Public Schools' $1.5-billion capital improvement program, said he has 25 years of experience managing building operations, maintenance and construction.

The Wayne County Building Authority approves contracts, which are overseen by Tom Schmeltzer, director of the county's building division, said county spokeswoman June West. She said Schmeltzer was a skilled tradesman who became director about 10 years ago.

Kilpatrick saw other women, ex-guards say
They are lying for money, he responds
By JIM SCHAEFER and M.L. ELRICK
Free Press staff writers
Originally published May 22, 2004

Two former mayoral bodyguards and a fired deputy police chief claim in a lawsuit that Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick ruined their careers because he feared they might expose a trail of marital infidelities.

In interviews with the Free Press and in sworn depositions unsealed Friday, the two former guards said Kilpatrick used them and other police officers on city time to set up dalliances with at least five women in Detroit and elsewhere.

Kilpatrick said Friday his accusers are lying.

"All of the allegations are completely false; it's a travesty that they would do that," Kilpatrick said.

But former police officer Walt Harris said: "There's been many instances where he made rendezvous with women."

In one instance, Harris said, he took the 33-year-old married mayor to a late-night meeting with a woman wearing only a full-length fur coat.

The allegations raise questions about the proper use of city resources and personnel, and could cost taxpayers millions in lawsuit payouts.

Speaking to reporters Friday night, Kilpatrick said: "They will say anything to get money. They are suing the city. . . . They want the taxpayer dollars and we're refusing to give it."

Harris and Officer Harold Nelthrope, who were among those who provided 24-hour protection for the mayor and his family, said they never saw Kilpatrick being intimate with any of the women. They said they knew the name of only one woman.

But they said they were convinced the meetings were romantic interludes.

Wayne County Circuit Judge Michael Callahan released documents that Kilpatrick had fought to keep secret. The judge's action came after the Free Press appealed the sealing of records in a lawsuit filed by Nelthrope and ex-Deputy Chief Gary Brown, who ran internal affairs. Harris has also sued.

Callahan ordered the mayor and his wife, Carlita, to appear for depositions next month in Brown's and Nelthrope's whistle-blower lawsuit. The lawyer for Nelthrope and Brown plans to question the Kilpatricks separately under oath about their personal lives.

The mayor called a news conference last year to denounce rumors of a wild party at the Manoogian Mansion, his official residence.

He proclaimed: "I would never disrespect my God, my wife, my children or the citizens of Detroit with this nonsense."

In their depositions, the former bodyguards also accused Kilpatrick of having an improper relationship with mayoral chief of staff Christine Beatty. She has said she recommended removing Brown in May 2003, shortly after the deputy chief had begun to investigate alleged wrongdoing by the mayor's inner circle.

Beatty could not be reached for comment Friday. But in a sworn deposition last winter she said she never had a romantic relationship with Kilpatrick.

The newly released records for the first time assert that Brown was fired to keep him from discovering Kilpatrick's alleged philandering.

"The logical next step in his investigation would be to interview members" of Kilpatrick's security team, said Michael Stefani, the lawyer representing Brown, Nelthrope and Harris. "And that's what Christine Beatty was afraid would come to light."

Nelthrope was reassigned from house duty at the Manoogian to a midnight shift at the 7th (Mack) Precinct. He went on stress leave after it was disclosed that he contacted internal affairs officers with allegations against Kilpatrick's security team leaders. He also mentioned rumors -- never substantiated -- of a wild party at the Manoogian. He said he has been threatened.

Harris asked to be transferred from the security team last spring.

A midnight ride

Harris criticized the team's leaders last summer in a lengthy interview with the Free Press, but did not mention the mayor's conduct beyond characterizing him as a hard worker who put in long hours.

One of the mayor's most-trusted guards, Harris was a 9-year police veteran who had spent three years on the security team of Mayor Dennis Archer.

He said he is having financial troubles, but is not lying to improve his chances of a lucrative settlement. He is now a deputy sheriff in Monroe County, Indiana.

Harris told the Free Press that on a midnight in December 2002 or January 2003 the mayor ordered him to drive from the Manoogian Mansion, the official residence, to the Lofts apartments on East Jefferson Avenue. A woman wearing only a full-length fur coat came out to meet Kilpatrick, Harris said.

"It was windy. One hand went to stick the key in the gate to lift the arm up. When she did that her coat blew open and the mayor looked at me and laughed. . . .

"I was able to see her skin. And I'm thinking, 'She has nothing on up under that and it's cold outside,' " he said. "I'm positive. She had nothing on up under that coat."

Before walking off arm-in-arm with the woman, Harris said, the mayor told him to go park in the shadows and wait.

A time in Washington

Harris also detailed a trip to Washington, D.C., for a political meeting in which he said he and a fellow bodyguard escorted a woman to the mayor's hotel.

Harris said he, Officer Mike Martin, Kilpatrick and his assistant DeDan Milton went to a popular dance club called Dream. Harris said he refused to go in because a doorman demanded that the bodyguards check their department-issued guns, which Harris said is against policy.

Harris stayed outside in a limousine for about three hours -- with the guns -- while the mayor and the others were inside.

After midnight, the group went to another club called Zanzibar.

Kilpatrick danced there with a couple of women, Harris said. When the group left, Harris jumped in the front seat with the limo driver.

Martin opened the door and a woman got in and sat next to Kilpatrick, Harris said.

"He had his arm around her," Harris said. "I'm like, what's going on?"

At the hotel, Harris escorted Kilpatrick inside, and Martin walked in with the woman. "He comes up, walks her to the mayor's room," Harris said.

In his deposition, Harris said he exchanged looks with Martin.

"Martin laughs, 'Yeah, you know, the mayor, he doing his thing,'" Harris said.

When Stefani deposed Martin, he admitted accompanying Kilpatrick to Zanzibar, but said the mayor did not dance or bring a woman back to the hotel.

The next morning, as Harris arrived at Kilpatrick's door to escort him through the day, he said he heard the mayor and a woman inside the room saying their goodbyes. Harris said he remembered a shower running, but did not see the woman.

At a barber shop

Another time in Detroit, Harris and Nelthrope said, they chauffered the mayor in his city Cadillac to meet a woman at a McDonald's restaurant on Grand River on the west side.

Nelthrope said the meeting happened one night in 2003. The woman met them in a parking lot and followed them in her car to a barber shop on Leslie, just a couple of blocks from where the mayor lived at the time.

"She had on a real low-cut skirt," Harris said. "She had nice-looking legs. She was a decent-looking lady."

Nelthrope and Harris said the mayor and the woman went into a back room for 20 minutes while they waited outside.

Harris said the mayor and woman came out of the barber shop where "the mayor hugged her and they kissed."

He said it was a peck on the lips, but he recalled thinking, "He's not trying to be discreet. Out in the open, he hugged her, gives her a kiss."
In his deposition, Harris said Kilpatrick and the woman engaged in a passionate embrace.

"Business lunch at 11 o'clock at night? In the back of a barber shop?" Nelthrope asked. "Give me a break."

Why now

Harris said he is speaking out now because he has become disenchanted with the mayor and feels Kilpatrick or his associates tried to frame him.

He was one of a few officers who traveled with the mayor, as did former team leaders Loronzo (Greg) Jones and Martin. "He got comfortable with me," Harris said of Kilpatrick. "And he trusted me."

Two of Harris' former colleagues praised him.

"Walt's one of the most professional guys I ever met," Officer Jesus Colon told the Free Press Wednesday. "He wouldn't make nothing up."

Colon worked with Harris on the security team until Colon was reassigned to the 7th (Mack) Precinct.

Sgt. Michael Moore, a crew chief on the security team from January 2002 through May 2003, described Harris as "honest, forthright," in a deposition.

Neither Colon nor Moore said they had heard rumors that the mayor committed adultery. Both said they never saw the mayor try to meet women.

"Half the time that women were around, he backed away from them," Colon said in the interview.

In depositions, Jones and Martin said they were not aware of Kilpatrick cheating on his wife, lawyer Stefani said.

Martin said he did not procure women for the mayor.

"I'm a police officer, not a pimp," he told Stefani.

Jones is a former high school football teammate of the mayor who introduced Kilpatrick to Martin during the 2001 mayoral race. Martin provided security for Kilpatrick during the campaign.

The lawsuits are pending. No trial date has been set.

OCT. 14, 2004: Bank gave mayor's aide $12,000 boost
Grant helped Beatty obtain a mortgage
By M.L. ELRICK and JIM SCHAEFER
FREE PRESS STAFF WRITERS
Originally published October 15, 2004

Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick's chief of staff received a $12,000 grant from Fifth Third Bank -- nearly five times what the bank offers others -- to help her buy a home in Detroit's upscale Rosedale Park neighborhood, according to records the Free Press obtained.

The money helped Christine Beatty qualify for a mortgage after the bank denied her initial application because of her low credit score.

The documents, provided by attorney Michael Stefani, who is suing Kilpatrick, also confirm that the bank took Beatty's position as chief of staff into account, noting on a list of "positives" that she worked for the mayor.

The Free Press reported Tuesday that a Fifth Third loan officer, citing a referral from the mayor, earlier had asked underwriters to make an exception for Beatty. Kilpatrick and bank officials have said he did not intervene.

The documents show that Beatty's position and the grant, which she doesn't have to pay back, helped her obtain a $237,000 loan from Fifth Third under the Economic Empowerment Program the bank created earlier this year to settle a dispute with the U.S. Department of Justice. Federal officials had accused the bank of failing to do business in minority areas.

Jack Riley, a Fifth Third spokesman, would not confirm Thursday whether Beatty received a $12,000 grant toward her down payment. He has said she received money from the Economic Empowerment Program, but he said privacy laws prevented him from discussing details.

The bank's newspaper advertisements say qualified applicants can receive a grant of up to $2,500 to help them buy a home. Riley said the bank can increase that amount if it sees fit. He said the limit was not in place when Beatty received her mortgage in May.

"When this loan was done, and it was one of the first or second EEP loans, we had not established the parameters" for down payment grants, Riley said.

He said he believed other loan recipients had received more than $2,500 in down payment grants but could not offer specifics.

"Ms. Beatty's loan approval process was consistent with the loan approval process of other applicants," Riley said.

The bank created the $3.2-million Economic Empowerment Program for people buying homes or starting businesses in Detroit. The fund officially was unveiled in June at the Wayne County Community College District's downtown campus, with much fanfare. Kilpatrick attended the kickoff, as did Beatty's loan officer, Keith Anderson.

The financing program is open to everyone, regardless of race or income level, but Riley said it is intended to serve low- and moderate-income applicants.

Beatty, whose salary is $140,001, used the loan to buy a $255,000 home.

Officials from the mayor's office did not comment Thursday evening.

The Free Press reported Tuesday that Beatty wrote an April 2 letter on official mayor's office stationery asking Anderson to overlook blemishes on her credit record that jeopardized her chance of getting a mortgage. She signed the letter with her name and "Chief of Staff, City of Detroit, Mayor Kwame M. Kilpatrick."

She has said Anderson asked her to send the letter. She said Monday she did not consider it a violation of the city's ethics policy, which forbids city employees from using their position for private gain or engaging in behavior that gives the appearance of impropriety.

The mayor's office had no comment on Beatty's actions. She is currently on medical leave.

Kilpatrick has accused Stefani of illegally obtaining documents from Beatty's bank loan file to advance a lawsuit against the city. Stefani filed the suit on behalf of fired Deputy Police Chief Gary Brown.

Beatty's attorney, Harold Gurewitz, said: "I don't believe there is anything at all about public employment that should result in a violation of a person's privacy rights. And we intend to aggressively pursue appropriate remedies."

Stefani has said he did nothing illegal to get the paperwork, which includes a memo he said Anderson wrote on April 14 that said Beatty was a "personal referral from the mayor" and urged an underwriter to make an exception for her because "I was told that 5/3 Bank is working on a deal with the mayor and the City of Detroit for collection of taxes. ... This could go a long way with 5/3 Bank's efforts in the City of Detroit, and the Mayor would think very favorable of our Bank."

Anderson declined comment Tuesday when reached at his Detroit office. Fifth Third Bank has no contracts with Detroit, city officials said. Riley has said the bank bids on city work.

He has declined to comment on the memo's authenticity because doing so would violate Beatty's privacy. He said the bank is investigating how Stefani obtained the documents.

Stefani is suing the city on behalf of Brown and Officer Harold Nelthrope, who have accused the city of violating the state's Whistleblowers' Protection Act and retaliating against them for their involvement in an internal affairs investigation of alleged wrongdoing by the mayor, his family and their police bodyguards.

Nelthrope used to work on Kilpatrick's security team.

Budget crisis: Retiree: Why is Detroit broke?
Source: Detroit Free Press (Detroit, Michigan) (via Knight-Ridder/Tribune Business News)
Publication Date: 31-OCT-05
Byline: Marisol Bello

Oct. 31--Today, the Free Press begins five days of reporting on crucial issues in the mayor's race. Come back on Tuesday for a look at what Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick and challenger Freman Hendrix are saying about crime and police issues and how that matches what's really happening.

Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick says rumors of Detroit's financial demise are exaggerated. Challenger Freman Hendrix says they are all but gospel.

The extremes leave city voters like Fredericka Johnson to sort through the bureaucratic, often arcane political shell game that is government financing.

Make no mistake: Real issues face Michigan's largest city with ramifications that stretch way beyond its borders.

Already, cuts in police, firefighting, bulk trash pickup and bus routes have residents howling.

Kilpatrick says his plan to lower taxes and bring high-tech industries to Detroit will create jobs and put the city back on track.

Hendrix, too, says he would lower taxes, entice small businesses to set up shop, and make tough choices to downsize city government that will turn the city's finances around.

Beyond the campaign rhetoric heading into the Nov. 8 election, some city residents wonder how things got so bad, so quickly.

"You go to bed one day and the city is doing good and you wake up the next day and the city is going into receivership," said retiree Johnson, 65, who lives in northwest Detroit. "Why are we broke? The city has never been in a shape like this. Never."

Johnson retired 10 years ago after more than 20 years as a City of Detroit secretary. Now, she hears the city wants to cut her pension and health care to help balance the budget.

She fears that would make a mess of her personal budget as property taxes, homeowners' insurance and gas bills rise.

"Why are they going to make us suffer?" she said.

Today, the Free Press looks at what the candidates are saying about Detroit's budget crisis and how it squares with reality.

Issue: Scope of budget problem.

Kilpatrick says: The city faces a $139-million budget gap. Kilpatrick's administration is working to reduce the gap, trying to negotiate health care concessions, laying off more employees and bringing in more revenue through changes in the state's utility users tax. The city is nowhere near going broke.

Hendrix says: The city faces a projected $300-million shortfall by the end of this fiscal year -- June 30, 2006. Mismanagement and wanton spending by the mayor have worsened the crisis to the point that insolvency -- and a state takeover -- are real threats.

The Free Press found: Administration documents show the city faces a projected shortfall of $187 million for this fiscal year.

Auditor General Joseph Harris said the city's shortfall could reach $300 million if significant cuts are not made soon. He said it is inevitable the city will run out of cash; the question is when.

The city's chief financial officer, Sean Werdlow, says the city could start to run out of cash by December without more layoffs or union concessions.

State officials with the Department of Treasury say they are monitoring the city's finances, but have no plans to step in.

Politically, Gov. Jennifer Granholm would want no part of a state takeover unless there is absolutely no alternative.

Issue: What, who caused crisis.

Kilpatrick says: The national, state and local economy, and the city's -- and region's -- reliance on the troubled automotive industry. Growing pension and health care costs. Decades of population loss without downsizing city government under his predecessor. Continued cuts in state and federal aid.

Hendrix says: The crisis has been 30 years in the making, but Kilpatrick ignored the problem and made it worse over the last three years.

The Free Press found: The city always has struggled financially, hitting bottom during the early 1980s when Mayor Coleman Young laid off police and cut employee salaries.

The city enjoyed a respite during the 1990s under Mayor Dennis Archer, who benefited from having fellow Democrat Bill Clinton as U.S. president and a booming economy.

Under Kilpatrick, the city has suffered one of the worst economies in its recent history and the budget has reached a crisis point.

When Kilpatrick took office in 2002, he faced a $75-million shortfall (Kilpatrick says it was $100 million). That has skyrocketed to $187 million today.

Archer said he left a template for Kilpatrick that included selling an 860-acre city-owned tract for $50 million. That would have helped eliminate the first-year deficit and created a surplus of $11 million.

Kilpatrick said he could get more money for the property. He was wrong. The city has sold more than 400 acres for $18 million and is expecting to get $7 million from additional parcels.

Meanwhile, estimates show the city lost up to 12,000 residents a year over the last five years, further eroding the tax base.

The city's pension and health care costs increased by 26% since Kilpatrick took office, even as the city spent 19% less on salaries. By comparison, during Archer's last four years in office, from 1997 to 2001, employee benefits increased by 4% and salaries went up 20%.

Also under Kilpatrick, the city lost 24% of its state and federal revenue and 14% of local revenue, even with $100 million in new casino taxes.

During Archer's last term, the city's federal money remained steady, its state revenue increased 14% and its local revenue grew by 62%.

Issue: Which candidate better handled the budget.

Kilpatrick says: He and his administration have made tough decisions, laying off hundreds of workers and eliminating thousands of positions. They've reduced the budget, trimmed city services and restructured the police and fire departments. By contrast, Archer and his deputy mayor, Hendrix, bloated city government.

Hendrix says: He and Archer balanced seven straight budgets and shepherded the city through consecutive bond rating increases. Many of the employees they added were funded by federal, state and charitable grants.

The Free Press found: Under Archer, the city's bond rating improved seven consecutive times.

In Archer's last four years in office, his administration increased the number of city workers by 1,600 to a total of 21,000 when he left in 2001. Grants paid for 5% of those employees.

Archer didn't negotiate union contracts before he left, saying the city couldn't afford raises.

Kilpatrick negotiated 48 contracts and gave employees 2% raises over two years. This year, though, Kilpatrick has yet to negotiate health care and pension concessions from the unions.

Although Kilpatrick reduced the budget this year, the City Council voted for even deeper cuts that the mayor hasn't made.

Kilpatrick has cut 1,914 people and eliminated more than 2,000 vacant positions in general city departments.

But the cuts weren't enough to cover the shortfalls, so he has borrowed money by issuing city bonds each year to close budget gaps.

That task has become more difficult because the city's bond ratings have dropped under Kilpatrick.

Despite his efforts, Kilpatrick has been unable to balance the budget during his first three years.

Kilpatrick at crossroads in battle to save Detroit, his job.
Publication: Detroit Free Press (Detroit, Michigan) (via Knight-Ridder/Tribune Business News)
Publication Date: 24-JAN-05
Byline: M.L. Elrick

Jan. 24--With a fight against union leaders and City Council members looming, Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick may find that the trust he needs to help pull Detroit out of a financial quagmire is harder to find than a cherry red Lincoln Navigator.

After a weeklong assault, Kilpatrick tried to regain some of his flagging credibility Saturday, when he reversed himself and admitted that the shiny new Navigator reporters found in a locked police garage originally was leased by the city for his wife, Carlita Kilpatrick.

"There were some screwups on communications," Kilpatrick said during an unprecedented and sometimes combative 70-minute news conference in his city hall offices. "I'll take the lumps on that. I'm upset that we handled it the way we handled it."

The mayor also denied a Friday Free Press report that said Washington, D.C., police supervisors cut off after-hours VIP protection for Kilpatrick when he visited their city because his nightclub hopping might result in embarrassment or injury to their police security team.

Even Kilpatrick loyalists worried that the stories could seriously wound the mayor.

"The timing could not be more unfortunate," said Conrad Mallett Jr., who helped run Kilpatrick's 2001 mayoral campaign. Regaining the momentum Kilpatrick said he sought by touting his austerity plan in a televised address nearly two weeks ago won't be easy.

"The mayor has reached the tipping point where the public now assumes the worst about him," said Sam Riddle, a longtime Detroit political consultant.

Kilpatrick adviser Adolph Mongo said the reports will make it harder for Kilpatrick to push his agenda and win re-election, though he said he is confident the mayor can do both.

City Council members such as Sharon McPhail, who is running for mayor, tried to turn the situation to their advantage, using the airwaves to question the mayor's integrity and his ability to erase a projected $230-million deficit. If the mayor cannot balance the $1.4-billion general fund, the consequences could be as dire as a state takeover of the city's operations.

"By Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick's own admission, his own budget staff has been presenting nothing but ominous financial news since he took office in 2002," McPhail said in a statement released last week. "In fact, Detroit's budget crisis has been made all the worse by Mayor Kilpatrick's inability to focus his attention on the very grim financial condition of the city until now."

Blaming a weak economy and a workforce too large for Detroit's shrinking population, Kilpatrick has said he will balance the city's budget by laying off nearly 700 workers, eliminating more than 200 vacant positions, selling city cars and asking all employees to take a 10-percent pay cut and reduced benefits.

"I think the mayor's credibility is absolutely paramount in this next period when this city is being hit by a perfect fiscal storm," said Councilwoman Sheila Cockrel, who said the mayor's news conference helped restore some, but not all, of his credibility.

Councilwoman JoAnn Watson said she is not concerned about Kilpatrick's recent travails.

"I just want to concentrate on the budget issues," she said.

And Al Garrett, president of the American Federation of State, County and Municipal Employees Council 25, which represents about 5,000 of the city's 17,000 employees, said union members never planned to take Kilpatrick's word without scrutinizing his plan first.

"We're not going into this thing trusting anyone," he said of Kilpatrick's plan to balance the budget with concessions from workers.

"There's some people mad at the mayor," Mongo acknowledged. But he said the way TV news reporters dogged the mayor -- even going to Washington, D.C., to confront him -- could help Kilpatrick.

He said a neighbor who told him she did not vote for Kilpatrick was disgusted with the coverage. "They're going too far with our mayor," Mongo said the woman told him.

"That's the first time I heard her say 'our' mayor," he added.

Bob Berg, a Kilpatrick adviser who endured many controversies while working as former Mayor Coleman Young's press secretary, said the mayor has put the controversy behind him. "You've really got to be careful about reading too much cosmic significance into everything," he said.

One way Kilpatrick plans to overcome his latest bout of bad press is by being more open. He said he will hold weekly news conferences, beginning Jan. 31. But his three years in office suggest the mayor has a way to go. Over the past 18 months, for example, his office has routinely ignored Freedom of Information Act requests.

And while Kilpatrick acknowledged Saturday that he knew about the Navigator in December, he didn't mention that he rejected it around the time reporters began asking about it.

After being stung for days by accusations that he was hiding a requisition for the Navigator, he released the requisition form and several other documents. Yet the names and phone numbers of the city employees involved in the transactions had been redacted.

Audit faults Kilpatrick for disregarding rules.
Source: Detroit Free Press (Detroit, Michigan) (via Knight-Ridder/Tribune Business News)
Publication Date: 18-FEB-05
Byline: M.L. Elrick

Feb. 18--Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick's staff spent more than $35,000 on meals in violation of city policy, an audit revealed Thursday.

Between January 2002 and last September, the mayor's office was reimbursed for meals even though they had not obtained required approvals for the expenditures beforehand, Auditor General Joseph Harris said in a review of spending by Kilpatrick and his staff.

Harris' audit also found that the city paid more than $2,000 in late fees on the mayor's city-issued credit card and failed to provide receipts documenting $16,527 in charges.

The audit also accused the administration of dodging City Council approval for $44,000 it spent on an event that may not have been a justifiable use of taxpayer money.

The audit is the latest report from Harris revealing a lack of accountability in the mayor's office as well as a disregard for city procedures. Earlier audits revealed that three mayoral aides embezzled tens of thousands of dollars from a petty-cash fund in Kilpatrick's office and widespread failure by mayoral employees to justify cash advances they received for city-funded trips.

Harris declined comment on the audit released Thursday, saying the document spoke for itself.

A written response by Patricia Peoples, executive assistant to Kilpatrick's chief of staff Christine Beatty, acknowledged many of Harris' findings and said the mayor's office is working to comply with city regulations.

However, Peoples objected to Harris' assertion that the mayor's office attempted to avoid City Council scrutiny by breaking up the $44,000 it spent to help put on a Feb. 8, 2003 event at Cobo Hall.

The mayor's office issued two checks, for $20,000 and $24,000, to PSI Productions & Events Planning Inc. for media equipment rental and labor for a forum titled "The State of the Black Union IV -- The Black Church: Relevant, Repressive, or Reborn?"

Harris said the mayor's office should have issued one check for $44,000. The City Council must approve any expenditure over $25,000.

The audit also noted "the mayor's office could not document how the event provided services to city citizens" and did not demonstrate how the expenditure was "necessary, reasonable or in any way a responsible use of the city's public funds."

Peoples responded that "As host ... the mayor's office is still under the opinion that the event provided services to city citizens." She did not provide details.

The audit also found that Kilpatrick failed to provide receipts for more than $16,000 charged to his city credit card. Those charges amounted to 8 percent of all charges to the credit card between January 2002 to last September, Harris said.

"Due to the lack of purchase slips/receipts, the legitimacy of the credit card purchases cannot be validated," the audit said.

The largest transaction without a receipt was $11,644 charged to the card by the Greater New Orleans Sports Foundation on Jan. 28, 2002. The city disputed the charge more than two years later, but the charge was put back on the city's account last April. Ron Maestri of the Greater New Orleans Sports Foundation said Thursday that he didn't know what the charge or the dispute was about.

Peoples wrote that the city "continues to aggressively dispute" the charge and is "actively seeking" receipts for $4,882 in charges on the credit card.

It is unclear why the mayor was in New Orleans. The audit had some good news for the mayor's office. It reported that all but seven of the 141 travel advances in dispute now had receipts.

Mayoral candidate says: Trim Kilpatrick's security to reopen police stations.
Publication: Detroit Free Press (Detroit, Michigan) (via Knight-Ridder/Tribune Business News)
Publication Date: 25-FEB-05
Byline: M.L. Elrick

Feb. 25--Detroit mayoral candidate Freman Hendrix suggested Thursday that shrinking Kwame Kilpatrick's security team could help cover the cost of reopening the city's police mini-stations.

Standing in front of a shuttered mini-station at the Grandland Shopping Center on Detroit's west side, Hendrix said he would reopen the police outposts and expand CB patrols to help reduce crime in neighborhoods. He said Detroit's financial woes -- Kilpatrick says the city faces a potential $231-million shortfall in its 2005-06 budget -- make hiring additional police unlikely.

Mayoral spokesman Howard Hughey and police spokesman James Tate declined comment. Kilpatrick has said even though homicides increased last year, crime in general has decreased.

Detroit could find money to reopen the mini-stations by reducing the number of police protecting Kilpatrick and his family. The mayor's security team has 21 budgeted positions at a cost of $2.4 million.

The Free Press has reported that Kilpatrick has one of the largest mayoral security teams in the nation, although it is slightly smaller than the team that protected Mayor Dennis Archer and his wife.

Hendrix also suggested saving money by cutting the city's travel budget and returning the red 2005 Lincoln Navigator the city leased for Kilpatrick's wife, Carlita, which has since been reassigned to the Police Department.

In addition to Hendrix and Kilpatrick, City Councilwoman Sharon McPhail is also running.

Freman Hendrix says mini-stations in Detroit neighborhoods can help reduce crime.

City is near top of list of spenders.
Publication: Detroit Free Press (Detroit, Michigan) (via Knight-Ridder/Tribune Business News)
Publication Date: 22-MAR-05
By Kathleen Gray And Marisol Bello

Mar. 22--Detroit spends more on city government than most of the nation's big cities, a Free Press analysis shows.

State of the City broadcasts Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick is to deliver his fourth State of the City address at 7 p.m. today at Orchestra Hall. There are no tickets available. The speech will be televised live on WJBK-TV (Channel 2), WDIV-TV (Channel 4) and WXYZ-TV (Channel 7). It will be broadcast live on WJR-AM (760), WWJ-AM (950) and WDET-FM (101.9).

Detroit ranks fourth among the nation's 15 largest cities in number of employees for every 1,000 residents; none of the three Michigan cities that follow Detroit in population -- Grand Rapids, Warren and Sterling Heights -- have even half as many employees per capita as Detroit.

The reality of a bloated workforce and budget drowning in about $200 million in red ink faces Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick as he prepares to deliver his State of the City address at 7 tonight.

"Right-sizing," the new buzzword for cutting city employees, has become a focus for the Kilpatrick administration and the Detroit City Council as they work to balance the budget even as thousands of Detroiters continue their flight to the suburbs.

The Free Press analysis of how Detroit compares with other communities also found overall city general fund spending of $1.58 billion out of whack with most other big cities. Detroit ranks fifth in overall spending per capita, behind New York, Philadelphia, San Francisco and Chicago, spending $1.7 million for every 1,000 residents.

What happened?

While the city's wallet remained wide open, tax revenues have declined. Detroit, which relies mostly on income taxes while many cities' primary revenue is property taxes, has suffered through hard economic times with an unemployment rate of about 14 percent. And the city's needs are unique to other cities'; for example, harsh winters mean it must provide snow removal and aging infrastructure means high repair bills.

The city's median income -- at $26,157 -- is the lowest of the country's 15 largest cities, based on 2003 U.S. census data.

And this year, the city dropped below 900,000 residents after reaching a high of more than 2 million in the mid-1950s. Since the 2000 census, the city has lost a net of 51,883 residents.

Meanwhile, the city's tax burden is among the highest in the nation, according to an annual report compiled by the City of Washington, D.C, comparing its tax burden to other large cities.

"We just can't afford it," said Detroit Auditor General Joseph Harris, a critic of some of the administration's financial decisions.

Detroit does not have the capacity to sustain high spending, Harris said, especially with its poverty and high unemployment rates.

Other cities, such as San Francisco and Chicago, he said, have greater contributions from businesses and residents. He cited San Francisco as a city smaller than Detroit but having one of the highest median incomes in the country.

Harris consistently has said the city must cut its total workforce of about 18,000 by as many as 2,000 workers, otherwise state receivership is likely. But so far, Harris said needed change hasn't occurred.

It's not that the city hasn't tried to cut workers.

Kilpatrick announced more than 600 layoffs in January and the elimination of 200 vacant positions. The mayor said earlier this year that the Belle Isle Aquarium would have to close and that overnight bus service would end to cut $22.5 million from the budget. Protests delayed both actions, now set to take effect next month.

"Nobody said it would be easy," said Earl Ryan, president of the Citizens Research Council, a Livonia-based think tank that analyzes state and local government finances. "Whenever you try to cut back services, you'll get complaints."

Still, other cities have done it. Columbus, Ohio, another Rust Belt city slow to recover from the recession, has slowed its spending. Since 2000, the general budget of the city, with a population of about 728,000, is up by only 1 percent. To accomplish that, the city cut 25 percent of its workforce, eliminating 470 positions the last four years.

The city also cut hours at recreation and health centers, required employees to share more in health-care costs and cut grants to community organizations, said Mike Brown, spokesman for Columbus Mayor Michael Coleman.

"We tried to protect the basic neighborhood services and determine what the priorities are for City Hall," he said. "These are tough decisions that every community is facing."

In Indianapolis, the nation's 12th-largest city with 783,000 people, the city expects a $57-million shortfall this year. But the city has spent the last 15 years reducing the size of its workforce, dropping from 4,700 in 1991 to 3,000 today, said budget manager Jeff Seidenstein.

The city privatized services, including its wastewater treatment plants, to help shed employees, an option that is staunchly opposed by Detroit's unions and several City Council members.

"It was controversial here, too," Seidenstein said. But the city's budget problems likely would have been a lot worse if they hadn't made some move to reduce the number of employees, he added.

The city is now looking to consolidate its police and fire services with the county's.

Anne Kinney, a researcher with the Government Finance Officers Association in Chicago, said many factors have to be taken into account before meaningful comparisons between cities are done. It's not fair, for example, to compare Detroit with Phoenix, the nation's sixth-largest city. Phoenix doesn't have to pay for snow removal.

Older cities like Detroit, also have to deal with aging roads, sewer lines and crumbling public buildings.

"And cities in the Midwest provide full service, while cities in other regions don't supply quite the same services," she added. "In the West and in some places in Arizona, even fire departments are privately run."

Detroit laid the groundwork for its current financial mess in the economic boom days of the 1990s, said Ryan. Despite a declining population, it used surpluses to hire more workers instead of upgrading technology which might have saved money now.

"That simply was not a sustainable policy," said Ryan. "Had the city adopted a strategy of downsizing in the mid-1990s when it had substantial resources, the crisis of downsizing today wouldn't be necessary."

The state of Michigan has had similar problems. During the 1990s, taxes were cut several times when the economy was booming. Since 2001, billion-dollar deficits have plagued legislators.

"During the '90s, the dot.com industry wasn't the only bubble to burst. There were state and local bubbles, too," said Ryan. "And now we're paying the price for that."

Kilpatrick says city won't pop for bubbly.
Publication: Detroit Free Press (Detroit, Michigan) (via Knight-Ridder/Tribune Business News)
Publication Date: 04-MAY-05
By M.L. Elrick and Jim Schaefer. Staff writer Marisol Bello contributed to this report.

May 4--Bubbly is out of bounds.

Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick conceded that Tuesday before refusing to discuss any details of the $210,000 credit card tab that the Free Press reported he passed on to taxpayers.

"I will check that out, and if that is true, I will refund," he said of a bottle of Moet & Chandon Nectar Imperial champagne charged to Kilpatrick's city-issued credit card in 2002 at a toney Atlanta restaurant owned by hip-hop music icon Sean (P. Diddy) Combs.

The Free Press disclosed the champagne purchase as part of a report on Kilpatrick's use of his credit card during his first 33 months in office. The newspaper got the city records nearly a year after filing a Freedom of Information Act request.

But while Detroiters demanded answers about the pricey meals charged to the mayor's credit card -- even bumping talk of the Tigers' victory Monday over the World Series champion Boston Red Sox and the Pistons' impending playoff game on sports radio call-in shows on Tuesday -- Kilpatrick refused to discuss on what and with whom he has been dining on the city's dime.

He defended his road trips.

"What we do there is promote business. What we do there is promote the city of Detroit. What we do there is try to get companies to come here. What we do there -- in Washington, D.C., and New York, and in Atlanta and L.A., in Las Vegas -- is try to get companies to locate in the city," Kilpatrick said. "I will continue, vigorously and aggressively, going after business for this town."

Callers and readers objected to the symbolism of the purchases, made amid Detroit's deep slide into financial crisis.

The bulk of the charges were for airfare and hotel stays, but the newspaper revealed that the mayor charged 78 meals to the card while in Detroit and on the road, not including hotel room service.

On one day in January 2002, the mayor charged more than $600 at two upscale hot spots in Washington, D.C.

The cost of meals was as low as $29 at Mama's Place in Detroit and as high as $456 at the swanky Capital Grille in Washington, D.C. The biggest tab was $1,285 for a "dinner event" at Sweet Georgia Brown in Detroit.

The mayor's salary was $176,176 before he said he cut it 10 percent in March to help close a projected $230-million gap in the city's $1.6-billion general fund budget. He is the only city employee who is issued a credit card.

In all but a handful of instances, Kilpatrick did not provide detailed receipts showing what was purchased and who ate the meals.

In two rare instances where detailed receipts were provided, the bills reveal lobster and crab leg dinners and alcohol purchases. City policy prohibits the use of the card for alcohol.

Kilpatrick said Tuesday that the alcohol -- beers, Malibu Rum drinks, Glenlivet scotch and Chambord liqueur -- was not for him. He didn't say whether he would pay for those drinks.

"People know that I don't drink," he told reporters after a news conference announcing the kickoff of the city's annual Motor City Makeover volunteer spring cleanup program.

He said the Free Press article focused on about 10 percent of the total expenses on his credit card and did not properly consider the good the trips did for Detroit.

"Here we go again," Kilpatrick told reporters. "It's unbelievable that the focus is not on what we're doing for the city; it's about all of this kind of crap."

Specifically, the mayor said his travels have landed $2 billion in investment in Detroit, including the downtown Hard Rock Cafe and $30 million in federal grants. Late Tuesday night, the mayor's office issued a statement reiterating that the expenses were for business-related travel.

The mayor's dining habits prompted an outcry by the City Council and unusually candid comments by former Mayor Dennis Archer.

"That story in the Free Press, it does not look good," Archer told Frank Beckmann on WJR-AM (760) early Tuesday. The situation with the card "does not feel right. It could have been avoided if there had been some checks and balances."

Archer said he used a nonprofit fund established by business leaders to pay for some of his travel and meal expenses. He said he never charged alcohol to his city credit card. City officials told the newspaper they could not find records detailing Archer's expenditures.

Archer told Beckmann he would have informed Kilpatrick about the fund, but the new mayor didn't ask and didn't seem interested in his advice.

Kilpatrick told reporters Tuesday that he was aware of the fund, which he said is bankrolled by city contractors, but declined to use it to defray expenses. He said he sometimes uses campaign funds. He did not elaborate.

Council members said earlier Tuesday that Kilpatrick was showing a lack of respect for taxpayers.

Several of them called for the mayor to relinquish the card.

"I take my staff to lunch a couple of times a year, but I pick up the bill," said council President Maryann Mahaffey. "It's a question of how you regard your responsibility to the taxpayers."

Councilwoman Sharon McPhail, who is running for mayor, said the council has tried to scrutinize the mayor's spending habits. She said the city's Law Department refused to grant the council a subpoena for the financial records.

Freman Hendrix also is running against Kilpatrick.

Archer, who in 2001 declined to back a candidate to succeed him, said on the radio he will make an endorsement by the end of the month. Hendrix is Archer's former deputy mayor.

Council jobs go to family, friends.(City Council hires dozens of outside contractors)
Publication: Detroit Free Press (Detroit, Michigan) (via Knight-Ridder/Tribune Business News)
Publication Date: 06-JUL-05
Byline: Marisol Bello

Jul. 6--At the same time Detroit is laying off hundreds of city workers to repair its desperate finances, the City Council has hired dozens of outside contractors -- in some cases hiring each other's relatives and political allies -- spending more than $2 million in 14 months.

A Free Press review of the contracts in each member's office found that although council members have railed against hiring outside contractors at the expense of city workers, several have relied heavily on such contractors to do everything from attending community meetings and performing clerical duties to outlining policy issues and legislation.

Each contractor is hired at will, with the council members deciding how many to hire and how much to pay them.

In one instance, Councilwoman JoAnn Watson paid former Council President Erma Henderson $23 an hour for advising her on the lack of black firefighters in the city and the need for a more spiritual life for Detroiters. Watson, often critical of outside contractors, has hired the most with 27.

In another, the daughter of Councilman Alonzo Bates made $21 an hour as a summer intern in another council member's office.

City payroll records for 2004 show council members spent at least $1.5 million on personal service contractors, who are employees that do not receive health care or pension benefits. From January through April of this year, council members spent another $560,000 on such contractors.

City Council members and the contractors they hire have come under fire in recent months since allegations arose that Bates paid two contractors for working in his office at the same time they were working elsewhere, one in Detroit and one in New York. The FBI is scrutinizing the hirings.

The issue came up again when the city's auditor general released a report late Tuesday -- conducted at the behest of the council president and president pro tem -- that reviews each member's contracts.

The audit cleared most of the council members of any wrongdoing, but found significant problems in the offices of Bates and the late Kay Everett that made it difficult to determine whether employees worked for the hours they were paid. The report found minor clerical issues related to members Watson and Barbara-Rose Collins.

Auditor General Joseph Harris had declined a Free Press request for comment about the audit or its findings.

The Free Press found numerous instances where council members have made their offices tightly knit circles, surrounding themselves with employees who are connected to their allies.

Watson hired Councilwoman Sharon McPhail's sister, paying her $28 an hour. Robin McPhail, who did not return calls for comment, made $9,600 from September through December for her work in Watson's office.

Watson did not respond to repeated attempts to discuss her contracts.

McPhail said she had nothing to do with Watson hiring her younger sister.

"That wasn't my decision," she said. "I made sure I stayed out of it."

In another instance, Councilwoman Alberta Tinsley-Talabi hired Bates' daughter as an intern, paying her $21 an hour. By comparison, a senior aide in Tinsley-Talabi's office earned $25 an hour.

In exchange, Bates hired the daughter of one of Tinsley-Talabi's employees. It is unclear how much he paid her.

Tinsley-Talabi said Aisha Bates, a third-year student at Spelman College, is working in her office again this year, supervising a summer youth program and working on policy issues.

"Our kids go to college and they need opportunities also," Tinsley-Talabi said. "As long as people are performing a function, I think it's OK. ... People should not be left out because of who their parents are."

Alonzo Bates did not return calls for comment.

One good-government expert said there are no hard and fast rules for public officials hiring relatives or friends. But Earl Ryan, director of the Citizens Research Council, said the council should be able to defend its hires.

"The council absolutely needs to be sensitive to these kinds of decisions because it certainly raises questions," Ryan said. He said the barometer should be whether the hires are qualified and if their pay is commensurate to other employees hired on a more objective basis.

The city's ethics ordinance prohibits conflicts of interest, such as council members with ties to a company vying for city business. But the city has no policy related to hiring friends or relatives. Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick has had at least a half-dozen relatives on the city's payroll at any given time.

Because each council member runs his or her office like a mini-fiefdom, each decides how many contractors to hire and how much to pay them. As a result, pay scales vary wildly. Legislative aides in Watson's office can earn $5.68 an hour, while those in Collins' office can make up to $50 an hour. Council members are only limited by how they want to spend their office budget. They cut their office budgets from $730,000 to $585,000, beginning July 1.

Although the council votes on the contracts, members rarely -- if ever -- vote against a colleague's contracts. The contracts are so pro forma that they often come up in the middle of the contract's term or even after the term has ended.

Even death isn't a problem. The council decided after Everett died last November to continue the contracts in her office through the end of the fiscal year -- June 30. At least seven of the 11 contracts in her office were renewed since January.

In another instance, McPhail put her Lansing-based communications director, Steve Serkaian, on a contract from October to December last year, but the contract didn't come up for a vote until January. She later extended the contract to run from January to June, but it didn't come up for a vote until May.

Serkaian is also the spokesman for McPhail's mayoral campaign, which she announced in December.

Since October, the city has paid Serkaian $22,500 for his work in McPhail's council office. McPhail said contracts, such as Serkaian's, routinely go up for a vote late because of delays in how the city processes them.

"It could take three or four months for a contract to get approved," McPhail said, adding that the council can not vote on a contract until the city conducts background checks.

She said she is paying Serkaian for his work on the mayor's race out of her campaign funds. McPhail's 2004 campaign finance records do not show payments to Serkaian.

She said her latest campaign reports, which are due July 22, will show payments to Serkaian. Meanwhile, she said: "That contract is over. He is no longer working for the city."

Councilwoman Sheila Cockrel employed the daughter of mayoral candidate Freman Hendrix last summer and briefly in December. Cockrel is supporting Hendrix in this year's tightly contested race.

Cockrel paid Erin Hendrix $13 an hour to work on policy issues related to the city's land bank plan and to perform clerical duties. Hendrix was paid a total of $5,400 for her work.

Cockrel said Erin Hendrix approached her after she graduated from the University of Michigan.

"She couldn't get a job in the city of Detroit because of who her father was," Cockrel said.
 

Detroit is spending more than it gets.
Publication: Detroit Free Press (Detroit, Michigan) (via Knight-Ridder/Tribune Business News)
Publication Date: 10-SEP-05
Byline: Marisol Bello

Sep. 10--The Detroit City Council's budget guru issued a sobering report Friday with a litany of fiscal problems that if left unchecked could lead to a fourth year of deficits and threaten the city's solvency.

In the eight-page report to the council, fiscal analyst Irvin Corley Jr. said Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick's administration has yet to take action on key pieces of the budget. The report said that if the needed cuts aren't made or new revenue found, the city could face a $215-million shortfall in its general fund by June 30, 2006, the end of the fiscal year.

"The fact remains that the administration continues to spend more than the city collects in revenue," Corley said in the report. "The longer this continues the larger the total problem to be solved grows. And the deeper the reductions will have to be."

The report raises further concerns that Detroit residents could continue to lose city services if departments have to shut down or lay off significant numbers of workers to help solve the budget problems.

Budget Director Roger Short said he received the report late Friday and could not comment in detail because he had not had time to research Corley's claims.

"There were some things I disagree with and some things I just did not understand," Short said about the report.

Short, Deputy Mayor Anthony Adams, the police chief and the fire commissioner are expected to provide the City Council with an update next Friday on the budget and police and fire restructuring plans that were announced last month.

Corley commended the administration for its efforts to reorganize the departments. But he said the changes, particularly those in the Police Department, do not save the city enough.

Among the other concerns Corley cited:

--The current budget factored in a $102-million shortfall in the budget from fiscal year 2004-2005, which must be addressed during the current fiscal year. But Corley said the city's accounting system shows the shortfall for the previous fiscal year could actually reach $124 million.

--If the city posts a $124-million deficit in its general fund for 2004-05, it could mean that when the city finally closes its books on that fiscal year, it will show that the city is insolvent because its overall liabilities would be greater than its assets. That would devastate the city's standing with the bond rating agencies and make it difficult to borrow money. Such a scenario hasn't happened since the early 1980s.

--The city owes about $120 million to its pension funds this year. But only $105 million was budgeted.

Councilwoman Sheila Cockrel said the report is further reason why the council has to press the administration for its strategy to resolve the fiscal crisis.

"The reality is some very tough choices are going to have to be made by the city's elected and appointed officials," Cockrel said. "We have to be about austerity, restructuring and sacrifice."

Auditor questions home sales.
Publication: Detroit Free Press (Detroit, Michigan) (via Knight-Ridder/Tribune Business News)
Publication Date: 18-NOV-05
Byline: M.L. Elrick

Nov. 18--Henry Hagood, a former city official, recently resigned amid accusations he sold city-owned property on the cheap to a friend.

Detroit Auditor General Joseph Harris has accused the city's top development officer of obstructing his investigation into the sale of hundreds of homes to developers who resold many of them for 10 times what they paid.

Harris said Thursday that Walt Watkins, the city's chief development officer, refused to provide him with records for the Detroit Neighborhood Development Corporation (DNDC). The city set up the corporation in the late 1990s to manage, sell or demolish homes caught up in the bankruptcy of the MCA Financial Corp. and RIMCO. The corporation is overseen by city Planning and Development Department (PDD) officials who report to Watkins.

"The lack of cooperation by the PDD to provide the records, coupled with the lack of oversight over the DNDC, raises concerns about the propriety of the transactions," Harris wrote. "We are concerned that there may have been misappropriation of funds and property, and other fraudulent activity connected with the property acquired and sold through the DNDC."

Howard Hughey, a spokesman for Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick, said the corporation is not a city agency and Watkins has nothing to do with running it.

"Joe Harris' audit is questionable at best and downright misguided at worst," Hughey said, adding that the mayor would also like to know if anything improper happened.

At issue are 373 homes the Detroit Neighborhood Development Corporation sold to four businessmen.

Some of the homes were sold at a time when the corporation was run by Dave Benson III. Benson's wife, Ayanna, is Kilpatrick's cousin, whom he picked to run the Detroit Building Authority. Benson could not be reached for comment.

Harris said his auditors identified several trends that concerned them, including:

The four businessmen sold 158 homes within three weeks of buying them. Of those, 76 were resold the same day.

The businessmen bought 45 homes for $207,705, then resold them for more than $2.2 million -- a 1,000 percent increase.

The amount paid to the Detroit Neighborhood Development Corporation for 299 of the homes could not be determined because the sale prices were not disclosed. The businessmen resold them for a total of $3.6 million.

Detroit Neighborhood Development Corporation President Jannie Warren, a city official, "claimed she did not know the location of the DNDC office or where the records were," the auditor's report said.

Henry Hagood, a former high-ranking city official who recently resigned amid accusations he sold city-owned property on the cheap to a friend, is still on the Detroit Neighborhood Development Corporation board.

Harris said Thursday it is difficult to determine exactly what happened with the home sales because of Watkins' and Warren's failure to turn over Detroit Neighborhood Development Corporation records. He said his auditors learned what they know about the sales by reviewing county land records.

"We don't know what went on, we're just speculating about this -- like everyone else -- about what kind of scheme this was," Harris said.

He said it appeared the homes were sold without required city inspections. He said he also did not know whether any of the homes were renovated before being resold.

Dalton Brown, a businessman who Harris said bought 63 homes, declined comment Thursday evening.

Brown, a former Detroit Housing Department administrator, was convicted of bribery charges in 1997 and sentenced to six years in prison. He has said he and his son each sent Kilpatrick $3,400 in contributions for this year's election, which is the maximum amount allowed.

To see more of the Detroit Free Press, or to subscribe to the newspaper, visit http://www.freep.com/ 

A top city attorney accused of fraud: $14,000 missing, former client says.
Source: Detroit Free Press (Detroit, MI)
Publication Date: 29-SEP-06
Byline: David Ashenfelter

Sep. 29--The deputy director of the Detroit Law Department has been accused of misappropriating $14,000 from a client when she was in private practice. If Brenda Braceful is found guilty of professional misconduct at a disciplinary hearing next month, legal experts said, she could lose her license to practice law, preventing her from continuing as a $110,000-a-year appointee of Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick. Law Department director John Johnson said he was unaware of the charges until the Free Press made inquiries. He said Braceful would remain on the job pending the outcome of the case. Her former client is still unhappy about Braceful's conduct. "Everything I had ever heard bad about attorneys -- she did them all," Denise Herring of Birmingham, Ala., said Thursday in describing a three-year runaround she said she got from Braceful, her former lawyer, when Herring tried to obtain her father's share of the $72,556 proceeds from the sale of a house.

Braceful, a lawyer since 1979, denied the charges in papers filed last month, but offered no explanation about the $14,000. The 54-year-old attorney worked in private practice from 1994 to 2002, between stints at the Law Department. She declined to comment this week on the charges filed in July by the Michigan Attorney Grievance Commission, referring all questions to her attorney. Her lawyer, William Daniel of Detroit, said he's trying to resolve the issue with the grievance commission to head off the Oct. 24 disciplinary hearing. Daniel wouldn't discuss the specifics of the complaint. And grievance commission staff lawyer Wendy Neeley said she couldn't comment. But at least one local legal expert said Braceful might be on thin legal ice. "Misappropriation of client funds is the worst offense a lawyer can commit," said Wayne State University law professor Peter Henning, who teaches legal ethics. Failing to protect a client's money is a major breach of the client's trust, Henning said, adding that Braceful's law license is in jeopardy.

The controversy followed the 1999 death of Mattye Lee, 80, of Detroit.

In May 2000, Wayne County Chief Probate Judge Milton Mack Jr. authorized the sale of her house and ordered Braceful to put the $72,556 proceeds in her client's trust fund until he could decide which heirs should get the money. Braceful's client and Lee's brother, John Henry Jackson of Birmingham, said he was entitled to the proceeds because Lee had given him an interest in the property after he helped pay her mortgage. His daughter, Herring, hired Braceful. Braceful wrote three checks totaling $15,683 to reimburse heirs for Lee's funeral and home upkeep, but reportedly never provided them with an accounting.

Herring said she played phone tag with Braceful for three years before firing her and hiring a new lawyer to find out what happened to the money. Mack repeatedly ordered Braceful to produce the funds, but she repeatedly failed to do so, prompting requests that she be cited for contempt of court, the grievance said. It alleges that she also lied when she said $56,882 was in the account. Subpoenaed bank records showed $42,937 remained. Braceful wound up replenishing the account with money from an insurance policy, the grievance said.

Instead of attending a contempt hearing on Sept. 21, 2003, Braceful sent a coworker to deliver a $56,882 check, the grievance said. The commission charged her with misappropriating client funds, making false statements to the judge, disobeying court orders and engaging in dishonesty, fraud, deceit and misrepresentation and conduct that exposed the legal profession to contempt.

Detroit taxpayers to foot $20-million bill.
Publication: Detroit Free Press (Detroit, MI)
Publication Date: 21-DEC-06
Byline: Dawson Bell

Dec. 21--Detroit taxpayers are on the hook for another $20 million -- on top of the $13.7 million they've already paid -- for a 6.3-acre parcel of riverfront property the city seized in 2000, under a ruling released Wednesday by the state Court of Appeals. The appeals court sided with a Wayne County jury, which two and a half years ago found the value of the parcel owned by Detroit Plaza LP was about double what Detroit paid when the property was condemned as part of a riverfront redevelopment project. The court also ordered the city to pay for the property owners' attorneys and expert witness fees, bringing the total additional obligation to about $20 million, said Jerome Pesick, a Birmingham lawyer who represented Detroit Plaza. The parcel lies just east of the Renaissance Center and is now part of a waterfront park project, Pesick said. City officials pursued purchase of the property for several years, and included it in plans by former Mayor Dennis Archer for riverfront casinos, but sought condemnation for general redevelopment in 1999. Pesick said Detroit had opportunities to obtain the property for less than the amount awarded in court, including a pretrial evaluation of $20 million total accepted by the Detroit Plaza group. But the city declined to do so, he said. Matt Allen, press secretary for Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick, declined comment on the case Wednesday afternoon, saying it has yet to be reviewed by city attorneys. Detroit could ask the appeals court to reconsider or seek additional review by the Michigan Supreme Court.

Kilpatrick's charity fund examined in federal probe.
Source: Detroit Free Press (Detroit, MI)
Publication Date: 10-JAN-07
By Zachary Gorchow and Marisol Bello

Jan. 10--Federal authorities examined Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick's charitable fund as part of their tax-evasion case against the president of a Highland Park homeless shelter who has been one of Kilpatrick's major financial backers.

In November 2003, the Internal Revenue Service assigned an agent to examine the Kilpatrick Civic Fund as it investigated whether the leaders of Metro Emergency Services, Jon Rutherford and Judith Bugaiski, evaded taxes, according to notes the federal government gave the pair's attorneys.

It is not clear why the IRS assigned an agent to the fund. Nothing in the Monday filing with the U.S. District Court in Detroit accuses Kilpatrick of wrongdoing.

Rutherford's attorney, Steven Fishman, would not comment. Messages left with the U.S. Attorney's Office were not returned.

In 2000, Rutherford donated $50,000 to the Kilpatrick Civic Fund.

The donation spurred controversy when it was revealed that a short time after receiving the donation, Kilpatrick wrote a letter to the board that oversees the Detroit-Wayne County Community Mental Health Agency, recommending that Rutherford's homeless shelter and adult foster-care business receive a contract from the agency.

Rutherford's businesses got the $22.7-million contract.

Kilpatrick and Rutherford have denied any connection between the contribution and the letter.

William Phillips, an attorney with the Detroit-based Pepper Hamilton law firm and the fund's secretary, said the comments in the brief regarding the mayor and the fund were hearsay.

"The first question I had was, Why they would even mention us?" he said.

He said the Civic Fund is in compliance with federal laws and that the mayor was not being audited. He would not say whether the fund was audited.

Phillips said federal authorities have not questioned him about the fund in regards to the Rutherford case.

The ties between Rutherford and the Kilpatrick family are intricate.

Kilpatrick's father, Bernard Kilpatrick -- who heads the mental health board but was not on it when the contract was awarded -- once consulted for Rutherford. He asserted his Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination when called to testify in a separate lawsuit alleging that Rutherford defrauded the county with the contract.

The reference to Kwame Kilpatrick's fund in the filing by attorneys for Rutherford and Bugaiski is part of their argument to dismiss the case.

The filing seeks to show that the IRS unconstitutionally failed to follow proper procedure in converting the case against Rutherford and Bugaiski from a civil to a criminal inquiry.

$8,605 went toward Kilpatrick family's bill at resort: community fund paid for stay.
Source: Detroit Free Press (Detroit, MI)
Publication Date: 10-MAY-07
Byline: Jennifer Dixon

May 10--Detroit officials acknowledged Wednesday that a tax-exempt community fund paid $8,605 for Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick and his family to spend a week at a posh California resort last August.

But they said the mayor's stay at the La Costa Resort and Spa in Carlsbad, Calif., was part of an effort to raise money for the Kilpatrick Civic Fund, which the mayor created to boost community life in Detroit.

Christine Beatty, the mayor's chief of staff, and Detroit attorney William A. Phillips, who helps oversee the civic fund, said the fund paid only for Kilpatrick's hotel bill, and the mayor picked up the rest of the trip's costs.

Asked why someone in California would donate to a fund set up to improve Detroit and educate residents about the importance of voting, Phillips said: "The people we fund-raise from understand the plight of the people in our city."

But the spending might run afoul of IRS regulations, a tax expert said.

Michael Indenbaum, a Detroit tax attorney, said the civic fund, under IRS rules, should have paid only for the mayor's expenses, not for his wife or children.

Indenbaum said such spending could draw IRS scrutiny. The agency, he said, is investigating tax-exempt organizations nationwide for travel and other quasi-personal expenses because of widespread abuses.

"They're concerned that some of the time, these types of expenditures are more personal in nature than they are connected to the underlying charitable or social welfare purpose of the organization," Indenbaum said.

'Completely out of line'

Phillips said the fund raised $503,000 last year, and Kilpatrick helped raise about $490,000 of that. Phillips said the fund, established in 1999, has raised money from people in nearly all 50 states.

He declined to identify the donors Kilpatrick met with in California or to release minutes of the fund's board meetings that would shed light on the fund-raising activities.

Phillips and Beatty said the law does not require them to disclose public donors or specific expenses, and they said they would not do so. They said the donors prefer privacy, and the fund's spending decisions shouldn't be "nitpicked."

Kilpatrick's fund paid for a suite for Kilpatrick and his wife, and a room for their children, according to WXYZ-TV (Channel 7) and hotel bills obtained by reporter Steve Wilson, who first reported on the mayor's stay in California.

"If the IRS sees that kind of stuff, they look into it," Indenbaum said.

The IRS could demand the fund pay taxes on any personal expenditures at a rate of 35% and could also revoke its tax-exempt status.

Indenbaum said paying for two rooms is "completely out of line. ... The family stuff is clearly not appropriate."

Beatty and Phillips released a copy of the fund's 2006 tax return, which was dated Wednesday, but without the list of donors.

The records show the fund spent more than $270,000 on conferences, meetings and conventions. It reported spending no money on fund-raising. The fund took in $503,233 and spent $514,197, a difference of nearly $11,000. Nonetheless, the fund still ended the year in the black, with a balance of about $27,000. The fund's president and board chairwoman is Kilpatrick's sister, Ayanna Kilpatrick.

The mayor's press secretary, Matt Allen, said the conferences took place in Detroit and consisted of events such as youth summits and senior luncheons.

In state incorporation records, the civic fund says its purpose is to promote community activities that benefit Detroit neighborhoods or contribute to the betterment of metro Detroit children. The fund also planned to educate Michigan residents about legislative issues, educate Detroiters about the importance of voting and help develop a positive image of the city.

Reporter is slammed

As they discussed the mayor's trip Wednesday, city officials criticized Wilson.

They accused him of impersonating the mayor to obtain Kilpatrick's hotel bills and said they would file a criminal complaint with an unidentified agency in the city, citing potential violations of federal wire-transfer laws.

Wilson said he did nothing "improper, illegal or outside journalistic ethics. ... I didn't violate the law. I didn't say I was someone I wasn't. I did not identify myself as the mayor of Detroit or Kwame Kilpatrick."

Allen bashed Wilson during and after a news conference, calling Wilson "a despicable man."

The U.S. Attorney's Office said it was unaware if anyone from the mayor's office had requested an investigation. The FBI said it couldn't comment.

History of scrutiny

Kilpatrick's spending has prompted headlines before, much of it coming from information obtained by the Free Press in recent years.

The newspaper reported in 2005 that the mayor and his staff routinely tapped into a taxpayer-funded petty cash account in violation of city policy, spending more than $144,000 over three years for things such as catered meals for regular cabinet meetings, concert and football tickets, and a tuxedo rental for the mayor's cousin.

Earlier that year, another report detailed how Kilpatrick ran up more than $210,000 on his city-issued credit card during his first 33 months in office. The charges included nightclub and spa visits, chauffeured sedan rentals and a hotel room for the Kilpatrick family's babysitter.

And at the beginning of 2005, after repeated denials, Kilpatrick admitted the city had leased a Lincoln Navigator for the primary use of his wife.

Staff writers Jim Schaefer and David Ashenfelter contributed to this report.

City council vote blocks settlement: Law department sought to pay off 2 police officers in slander lawsuit.
Source: Detroit Free Press (Detroit, MI)
Publication Date: 18-MAY-07
Byline: Marisol Bello

May 18--The traffic stop that made the phrase "Do you know who the (expletive) I am?" part of metro Detroit's lexicon keeps coming back -- even when the City of Detroit tries to make it go away.

The city's Law Department wants to settle for $25,000 a lawsuit filed by two Detroit police officers who allege Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick and Police Chief Ella Bully-Cummings slandered them after the officers pulled over the mayor's chief of staff, Christine Beatty, for speeding three years ago and accused her of hurling the profane retort.

But the City Council won't let the city proceed. The council on Wednesday voted 6-1 to deny the settlement to Officers Zack Weishuhn and Patrick Tomsic.

"I think it's a facetious lawsuit," Councilwoman Barbara-Rose Collins, one of the six who voted against it, said Thursday. "It doesn't merit the city giving up taxpayer dollars because their feelings were hurt."

The suit, filed in 2005, alleges that Kilpatrick slandered the officers when he said on the radio that Beatty was set up and called the traffic stop "the biggest piece of crap." Court documents filed by the city include a history of the word "crap," dating to its use in 15th-Century England.

Michael Rataj, the attorney representing both officers, said if the council won't approve the settlement, he'll take the case to court. "If they want to air out all their dirty laundry in open court, that's what we'll do," Rataj said.

The officers remain on the force. Weishuhn, a reservist in the Air Force, has served two tours in Iraq since filing the suit.

"Here you have one guy going over there fighting for his country and Kwame Kilpatrick and Ella Bully-Cummings want to question their integrity," Rataj said.

Mayoral spokesman Matt Allen said the city wants to settle because it is the best course of action. City lawyers will ask the council to reconsider its vote, he said.

City Hall is linked to cash scandal Detroit: Money for shelter directed to political causes, IRS says.
Source: Detroit Free Press (Detroit, MI)
Publication Date: 13-JUN-07
Byline: Zachary Gorchow and David Ashenfelter

Jun. 13--A backer of Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick, the mayor's father and two people with political or professional ties to the mayor directed the dispersal of money from a homeless shelter into political campaigns, according to IRS records revealed in federal court Tuesday. The allegation came to light in a federal judge's ruling in a tax evasion case against Jon Rutherford, the owner of Metro Emergency Services, the homeless shelter operator based in Highland Park. Federal law prohibits nonprofit groups like Metro from contributing to candidates and political-action committees. The IRS documents cited by Judge Marianne Battani focus on the mayor's father, Bernard Kilpatrick, and two people close to the mayor -- Michael Tardif and Cassandra Smith-Gray. They are the first indication that people with close ties to the mayor may have been involved in helping shelter money be distributed to political causes. Kilpatrick spokesman Matt Allen said the mayor has nothing to do with the case. About 10 years ago, Rutherford formed a company called DPR Management LLC, which took ownership of Metro Emergency Service's Highland Park homeless shelter, court records show. The IRS said Metro Services then paid DPR excessive rent -- $287,000 in 2000, $405,000 in 2001 and $690,474 in 2002. In 2001, DPR gave $97,275 to the Community Coalition, an activist group that endorsed Kilpatrick in his first bid for mayor. DPR gave another $91,400 to the group in 2002. Community Coalition officers told the IRS most of the money went for get-out-the-vote flyers, to pay people to hand them out, and radio advertising, the IRS said. Coalition officials could not be reached for comment. "Rutherford, in conjunction with Bernard Kilpatrick ... and now members of Kwame Kilpatrick's staff, Michael Tardif and Cassandra Smith-Gray, manipulated contribution and/or campaign funds by directing, at the very minimum, the Community Coalition members regarding how contributions from DPR would be spent," IRS agents said in documents Battani reviewed. Bernard Kilpatrick was once a consultant for Rutherford. Tardif is a key political strategist for the mayor, but he does not work for the city, Allen said. And Smith-Gray was director of the Detroit Housing Commission under Kilpatrick from 2002 to 2005.

Smith-Gray said she was stunned by the allegation. "I have no idea what they're talking about. I've never heard of DPR," she told the Free Press late Tuesday. "I cannot believe they would put my name in a document like that. "I've not been in a position to direct political contributions." She said she appeared before a grand jury investigating Rutherford but would not elaborate. Messages left with Tardif and Bernard Kilpatrick on Tuesday were not immediately returned. Prosecutors say Rutherford used $750,000 of the payments from Metro Services to DPR for political contributions. It's unclear where the rest of the money went. The IRS investigation of Rutherford was prompted by a 2001 Free Press article that said Rutherford had contributed $50,000 to the Kilpatrick Civic Fund in 2000. A few weeks later, Kilpatrick wrote a recommendation that Rutherford's Metro Emergency Services receive a $22.7-million contract from the Detroit-Wayne County Community Mental Health Agency board. Metro Services received the contract.

Rutherford, 58, of Orchard Lake and Judith Bugaiski, 48, of Sterling Heights are charged with multiple counts of conspiracy, tax evasion, failing to pay tax to the IRS, making false statements to the IRS and impeding its investigation of the case. Battani ruled Tuesday that IRS agents broke the law and their own policies by continuing to investigate Rutherford and Bugaiski, his Metro Services controller, once they suspected them of tax fraud. She said these agents should have referred it sooner to IRS Criminal Investigation. Defense lawyers Steve Fishman and Robert Morgan of Detroit asked Battani to dismiss the indictment.

Detroit mayor faces another whistle-blower lawsuit.
Source: Detroit Free Press (Detroit, MI)
Publication Date: 15-SEP-07
Byline: M.L. Elrick

DETROIT - Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick wants to shelve questions about his personal life so he can focus on rebuilding Detroit while his lawyers appeal his defeat in a whistle-blower case.

But that may be wishful thinking.

On Sept. 28, less than a month after having accusations of infidelity aired in court in the Gary Brown-Harold Nelthrope civil case, another whistle-blower lawsuit, filed by another former bodyguard, will be in court for a hearing. It's not clear when the case might go to trial. And if there's a major difference between the two cases, it's that the Harris case contains even more allegations of sex.

Mayoral infidelity is the central theme of a lawsuit filed by former cop Walt Harris against Kilpatrick and the City of Detroit.

It accuses the mayor of cheating on his wife in Detroit and on the road with his chief of staff Christine Beatty, and with other women during late night outings.

Kilpatrick has acknowledged going out solo after hours, but denied having affairs.

But there may be more at stake for Kilpatrick with the Harris case than just another round of speculation about his character.

Going to trial could cost the city money and the mayor political clout that neither can afford, said Sam Riddle, a political consultant and chief of staff to Detroit City Council President Pro Tem Monica Conyers.

"If they attempt to try that case the way they did the Brown and Nelthrope case, someone is going to have to inject a heavy dose of common sense" into the Kilpatrick administration, Riddle said. "Otherwise, we can only assume that we are witnessing the institutionalization of arrogance."

Former Deputy Chief Brown and former Officer Nelthrope sued Kilpatrick and the City of Detroit under Michigan's Whistleblower Protection Act.

They were awarded $6.5 million, collectively, last week. A jury determined that Kilpatrick violated their rights by retaliating against them for alleging and investigating whether Kilpatrick's friends on his security team committed overtime fraud and other misconduct.

Brown was removed as the deputy chief in charge of internal affairs; Kilpatrick aides violated Nelthrope's confidentiality as the source of allegations against the mayor by leaking his name to the media.

Harris claims whistle-blower status because he corroborated Nelthrope's allegations and made additional accusations when questioned by Michigan State Police and news media, and says he was retaliated against for doing so.

Mayoral spokesman Matt Allen said Friday he could not comment while a motion is pending in court.

That motion is the city's bid to get the case dismissed. Such motions are seldom granted.

Harris claims to have witnessed the mayor disappear behind hotel room doors with women and he alleges thuggish behavior.

Harris said the mayor told him he expected Harris to "beat down" professional basketball player Derrick Coleman in 2002 for touching Beatty.

And Harris claims that the mayor was behind citizen complaints filed against him after he left Kilpatrick's security team in 2003.

Harris said those were the first citizen complaints filed against him in 8  years with the department. The rash of complaints made him so anxious, he said, he went to a psychiatrist, quit the department, sold his home, and moved out of state.

Valerie Colbert-Osamuede, who defended the city in the Brown-Nelthrope case, said Harris left voluntarily.

"The facts will show that we don't have any control over citizen complaints," she told the Free Press on Friday. "Officers get citizen complaints all the time."

She said Harris was exonerated in each case.

Still, Harris' lawsuit seeks more than $2 million.

In November 2005, he accepted a mediation panel's recommendation that he accept $100,000 to settle the case.

The city rejected that proposal.

If Harris wins, that could pose another problem for the mayor.

Mike Stefani, who represents Brown and Nelthrope, said he offered to settle their lawsuit for about $2 million. But the city refused. Stefani also represents Harris.

Kilpatrick said on the radio last week that the former officers wanted $8 million and would not settle.

Regardless, Riddle said the Harris case threatens to subject Kilpatrick to the same kind of questions that the Brown-Nelthrope case did.

"It's going to be rerun after horrible rerun," Riddle said.

Former cops win suit against Kilpatrick, Detroit: Mayor: 'I'm blown away'; Kilpatrick plans to fight verdict, says city is behind him.
Source: Detroit Free Press (Detroit, MI)
Publication Date: 12-SEP-07
Byline: M.L. Elrick, Jim Schaefer and Ben Schmitt

Sep. 12--They were asked to resurrect Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick's reputation, but instead a Wayne County jury condemned the mayor Tuesday -- taking only an hour to review three weeks' worth of evidence before awarding $6.5 million to two former cops suing Kilpatrick and the City of Detroit.

The unanimous verdict was shocking not just because of the speed with which it was reached but because, as recently as last month, the city could have resolved the whistle-blower lawsuit for just more than $2 million, a third of Tuesday's verdict.

"They were so stubborn," said Mike Stefani, the attorney representing former Deputy Chief Gary Brown and former mayoral bodyguard Harold Nelthrope. Stefani said city lawyers rejected the settlement overtures.

"Politicians never want to admit they made a mistake," Stefani said. "It's not their money."

Kilpatrick said he was "blown away" by the predominantly suburban jury's speedy verdict. One thing the trial did revive was questions about Kilpatrick's personal life and professional judgment the mayor hoped he put behind him with his 2005 re-election. But those questions returned again and again in trial testimony laden with allegations of late-night liaisons -- which were never proved -- and cronyism.

An elated and relieved Brown, wearing a dark blue suit, striped tie and Detroit Tigers baseball cap, said after the verdict that in 2003 he told the city he wouldn't sue if he got a full deputy chief's pension.

Jurors awarded Brown much more -- $3.6 million -- while Nelthrope was awarded $2.9 million.

Brown predicted that the verdicts could embolden other whistle-blowers.

"I know that there are other city employees who know a lot more than I found in my investigation," he said. "I hope that they will come forward and put an end to this culture of corruption in the mayor's office."

The impact on Detroiters -- whose tax dollars will be used to pay the former cops -- will be far more than the $6.5 million the jury awarded.

Taxpayers have already spent $250,000 on private lawyers defending the mayor and the city. The city's Law Department also assigned lawyers to the case.

And Kilpatrick's pledge to appeal could mean more legal costs, as well as interest that will accrue on the jury's award if the city does not prevail.

Unanimous jury, shocked mayor

Still, a stunned but defiant Kilpatrick stood in front of the Spirit of Detroit outside City Hall and suggested that the city is with him.

"I'm absolutely blown away by this decision, and I'm sure Detroiters are, too," he said. "I think my reputation rests with the city of Detroit. Being that there was only one" juror from Detroit, "I guess I will have to talk to her."

Jurors would not speak to reporters as Wayne County sheriff's deputies escorted them to a nearby parking garage. The jury foreman, reached later at his home in Canton, declined to comment.

Stefani, who spoke to the jury for about 20 minutes before they left, said they told him they were "unanimous as soon as they got in the jury room."

In closing arguments Monday, Stefani urged jurors to use their verdict to send a message about the mayor and his conduct.

Kilpatrick attorney Sam McCargo asked jurors to "grant the mayor a new resurrection, a new life."

They apparently were not impressed by the more than three hours the mayor spent on the witness stand.

"One of the jurors said he's a very poor liar," Stefani said.

Brown said when he walked in to speak with jurors, some were flapping their arms, mocking McCargo, who told the jury during closing arguments that he wished he could transport them back in time as butterflies to watch events unfold.

"'You mean we're not butterflies?'" Brown said a juror asked him in jest.

One witness who testified for the mayor and the city also was not impressed.

Lessons learned

Former Detroit Police Chief Jerry Oliver said Tuesday from his home in Phoenix that he hopes Kilpatrick learned a lesson.

"I'm sure at this point in the mayor's career, he would handle the situation differently," Oliver said of Kilpatrick's decision to fire Brown. "I would like to think that he would consult with the chief of police in more detail before a decision like that is made."

Sam Riddle, a political consultant and chief of staff for City Council President Pro-Tem Monica Conyers, said the city should have settled the suit long ago.

"The rumors and allegations have been given CPR by the verdict, and that hurts Kilpatrick politically," he said.

"Even if the jury would have been all-black, all-Detroit, I think the mayor would have had an extremely tough sell."

Kamau Marable, a Detroit political consultant, said he thinks the mayor hoped victory at trial would validate his decision to remove Brown.

"I don't think he lost any votes; I don't think he gained any votes," Marable said of the verdict's impact on Kilpatrick.

But he said appealing the case is a mistake.

"Let those lying dogs lay and call it a day," Marable said. "The closer you get to election time, the more dangerous it becomes."

Defendants relieved

Nelthrope, a traffic cop whose year on the mayor's security team led to the lawsuit, said he felt "joy, peace of mind, now."

"I can get back to my life. I have my name and reputation back."

Although the jury ruled for the former cops, jurors were not specifically asked to rule on the credibility of Nelthrope's complaints to internal affairs that officers on Kilpatrick's security team committed overtime fraud, drank on duty and did not report their accidents in city cars. Nelthrope also passed along a never-proved rumor about a wild party at the Manoogian Mansion.

Judge Michael Callahan instructed jurors that Michigan's Whistleblower Protection Act required them only to determine if the officers believed the allegations were legitimate and whether they were punished for coming forward.

In the end, the jurors believed the cops over the mayor and his aides.

Why didn't the city settle?

Legal experts said it's rare for public officials in high-profile lawsuits to settle cases before trial.

Voters, they fear, would construe doing so as a tacit admission of guilt, they said.

"It's fodder for your opponents when you're talking about elections," said University of Michigan law professor Paul Reingold.

But putting the case in the hands of a jury also is a gamble.

"I mostly sue the government and I'm often astonished when the state and local government won't settle cases that I think private parties would," Reingold said. "In the end, a jury is unpredictable."

Ben Gonek, a Detroit attorney who often sues the city, said he's not surprised the mayor didn't settle.

"Cases like this spark high emotion," he said. "They also usually involve political figures who are arrogant and feel that they are untouchable."

An outside opinion

Dorothea Walker, a 72-year-old court watcher who saw every day of testimony during the three-week trial, said she agreed with the verdict and discounted the mayor's pointed comments about the jury having only one person from Detroit.

"I was there, I'm black. I saw the whole entire trial. And I had told all my friends yesterday it was just a matter of how long it will take the jury to determine how much money they were going to award these men," said Walker, a native Detroiter who moved to Eastpointe two years ago. "I don't know why the city went to court on it, because they didn't have any defense."

Assault victim wins $2.6 million: Offender is city cleanup leader, mayor's pal.
Source: Detroit Free Press (Detroit, MI)
Publication Date: 01-NOV-07
Byline: M.L. Elrick

Nov. 1--It took a Wayne County Circuit Court jury less than four hours Wednesday to award $2.6 million to a man pistol-whipped by Bobby Ferguson, a leader of Detroit's volunteer cleanup effort and one of Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick's best friends.

Kennedy Thomas, a former employee of Ferguson's construction firm, won a unanimous jury verdict in a trial that began Oct. 2. He suffers dizziness, has seizures and has walked with a cane since Ferguson assaulted him more than three years ago.

Ferguson claimed he believed Thomas was having an affair with his wife. Ferguson's attorney said Ferguson hit Thomas with an ashtray after Thomas admitted to the affair and threw a camera at Ferguson. Thomas denied any affair.

Thomas' lawyer, David Robinson, said Ferguson had no credibility.

Ferguson had testified that he believed his assault was not a crime. Nevertheless, he pleaded guilty in 2005 to a charge of assault with intent to do great bodily harm and was sentenced to 10 months in jail and 5 years' probation. Kilpatrick visited Ferguson in jail, but did not testify during the trial.

When asked on the witness stand if Kilpatrick was a friend, Ferguson replied: "Can you explain to me what a friend means?"

Just a month before, in the same courthouse, Kilpatrick had testified in an unrelated trial that he has known Ferguson since 1997 and that the city contractor got him interested in riding motorcycles.

After taking office in 2002, Kilpatrick named Ferguson as a top adviser in efforts to clean up Detroit.

Ferguson's attorney, Avery Williams, did not return an e-mail seeking comment.

Thomas' mother, Cynthia Thomas, said her son now can focus on raising his family.

"Kennedy had a chance to be vindicated in what he said happened, and Bobby finally got the only justice that he knows, and that's financial," she said.

Documents show keys to mayor's cover-up
BY JIM SCHAEFER
FREE PRESS STAFF WRITER
February 28, 2008

Samuel McCargo stood alone in a parking lot, legal papers in hand, confronted by his client's lies.

The lawyer for Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick had just pored over documents he'd received in a sealed envelope from Mike Stefani, McCargo's courtroom adversary in a highly charged police whistle-blower case.

The lawyers had spent the morning of Oct. 17 at a Detroit law office with other city attorneys haggling over Stefani's efforts to collect legal fees after winning the trial. It had been a mundane meeting until now -- when McCargo saw what was in the envelope.

It was a court motion from Stefani, rife with excerpts of explicit text messages between the mayor and his chief aide, Christine Beatty. The messages showed, beyond a doubt, the pair had lied at the trial when they denied a sexual affair.

McCargo asked to see Stefani outside the ornate Woodward Avenue law offices of Charfoos & Christensen.

Stefani walked outside and found McCargo. His face, Stefani would recall later, was ashen.

"I had no idea," McCargo said, according to Stefani's deposition, which was made public Wednesday.

Then, in a shaky voice: "Have you filed this?"

Not yet, Stefani replied.

McCargo then asked: "Can you stay here awhile while I try to get ahold of the mayor?"

It's now clear what happened next: The mayor settled the cases of three ex-cops for $8.4 million that very day.

This is the tale behind that deal, one that can now be told in full with the release Wednesday of the last batch of secret settlement records. They show, as never before, how Kilpatrick and lawyers on the city's defense team embarked on an ill-fated scheme to conceal the damaging text messages from public view.

It was a simple deal, money for documents. And no one was to ever speak of it again.

It's a story about a sealed envelope, a mayor's about-face, lies and secret deals. It's a story that may yet result in the filing of criminal charges, and the end of political careers.

It's the story behind the text-message scandal.

The trial

The jury was unanimous last Sept. 11.

The 11 men and women who sat through the trial agreed with Stefani's claim that Kilpatrick retaliated against his clients, ex-cops Gary Brown and Harold Nelthrope, that the mayor punished them for their roles in a police internal affairs investigation into misdeeds by Kilpatrick's police bodyguards.

Nelthrope, a former member of the mayor's security team, had made the allegations to internal affairs in 2003. Brown was a deputy chief who oversaw the investigation. When Kilpatrick found out about it, he fired Brown, ending the probe.

Nelthrope said he felt so threatened after he reported his allegations that he had to take a permanent stress-leave. Both men claimed in their lawsuit that Kilpatrick had a motive to retaliate: The mayor feared the investigation would expose his extramarital affairs, including sexual liaisons with Beatty.

During the trial in August, Kilpatrick testified for three hours, denying he fired Brown, and calling claims of philandering preposterous. The mayor also told the jury it was a shame that successful women like Beatty had to endure whispers that they had slept their way into their positions. Their relationship, Kilpatrick testified, was platonic and professional.

But the jury didn't buy it, and awarded the former cops $6.5 million. Kilpatrick told reporters he was shocked.

"I am absolutely blown away at this decision," he said, "and I know Detroiters are, too."

He suggested that the composition of the jury, mostly white and suburban, played a role. And he vowed an appeal.

Stefani, though, was not through with the mayor.

He had been trying to obtain the text messages since 2004. Every time he sent a subpoena to SkyTel, the Mississippi company that leased text-transmitting devices to the city, Kilpatrick's lawyers filed court papers to foil his efforts.

Finally, that year, Wayne County Circuit Judge Michael Callahan allowed Stefani to subpoena the text messages, but the judge wanted them sent directly to the court. That way, Callahan reasoned, the potentially explosive information would be under his control. The text messages could be used at the trial only if they contradicted testimony.

Stefani admitted in the Free Press deposition, taken on Jan. 30, that he assumed the judge had the messages, but never checked. Stefani also accused the city of shenanigans, saying that someone from the city privately called SkyTel and told it not to send the messages.

During their August trial testimony, Stefani peppered the mayor and Beatty with questions about whether they were lovers, part of Stefani's effort to show jurors why the pair would want to derail a police investigation by firing the cops.

Stefani asked the judge if the messages contradicted Kilpatrick's and Beatty's testimony.

Callahan responded that he didn't have the messages, and didn't know if he had ever received them. He told Stefani to subpoena them again.

It took two attempts, Stefani said in his deposition. The first time, SkyTel told him the 5-year-old text messages were no longer available because the company had a new owner. Undeterred, the lawyer tracked down his original contact at the company from 2004, a man who no longer worked at SkyTel. He said the current Skytel officials just didn't know where to look.

Armed with the new information, Stefani tried again. His subpoena this time succeeded, but not before the trial ended.

On Oct. 5, a FedEx overnight envelope from SkyTel arrived at his Royal Oak office. Inside, Stefani found a CD with the text messages burned on it.

He finally had the messages. Too late for the trial, but perhaps not too late to be put to good use.
An impasse, a break

On Stefani's calendar was an Oct. 17 meeting with lawyers for the city and the mayor to negotiate Stefani's legal fees. As the winner of a whistle-blower case, Stefani was allowed to bill his costs to the losing side. They agreed to meet at Charfoos & Christensen, a neutral site where they could argue over fees with the help of a referee, known as a facilitator.

For nearly three hours, lawyers negotiated through the referee, a former judge from Flint. Stefani said the talks centered mainly on fees, but he kept pushing defense lawyers toward a settlement of the case, one that would allow both sides to avoid years of appeals.

But city lawyers consistently refused. Sensing they were at impasse, Stefani said he produced a sealed envelope and handed it to the facilitator.

"The facilitator said, 'What's in this envelope?' " Stefani recalled in his deposition. "And I said, 'I've got' -- irrefutable is the word I used -- 'irrefutable proof that the mayor and Beatty perjured themselves.' ...

"And he said to me, 'You know, you have to be careful. You don't want to tie -- you don't want to, like, threaten to release this information if they don't settle.' And I said, 'I'm not doing that. I only want you to tell them that this is a motion,' and he gave it to them. And he coached me on not saying anything else."

The motion, as Stefani described in the deposition, was labeled "supplemental motion for attorney fees," a dreary title for a document that was nothing short of explosive.

In it, he justified his proposed fees in the case by detailing the work his staff had put into checking the truthfulness of Beatty's and Kilpatrick's testimony. As evidence his efforts were worthwhile, he disclosed the contents of several text messages between Kilpatrick and Beatty that conflicted with their trial testimony. Stefani quoted liberally from sometimes sexually graphic exchanges.

McCargo spent roughly 45 minutes reading the document. It was then that he asked to have Stefani meet him alone, away from the other lawyers, in the parking lot.

According to Stefani, McCargo quickly reached his client, the mayor, at an airport.

Kilpatrick decided immediately to settle.
A series of pacts

Negotiations picked up. The city's top lawyer was summoned. Corporation Counsel John Johnson Jr. has acknowledged being "personally" involved that day, but told the Free Press earlier this month he went only to approve the amount of the payout, and did not even read the agreement that was crafted.

He insists he knew nothing about the text messages, or efforts to conceal them that day, until he read about them in the Free Press in January.

Stefani said the facilitator left around 4 p.m. Lawyers for both sides hammered out the terms of the settlement, at first scratching out a draft on a legal pad. Later, they all headed to Stefani's Royal Oak office to tweak the agreement and type it up. By about 8:15 p.m., the deal was complete, he said.

The document, released Wednesday after the Free Press sued to get it, called for Stefani to turn over the text messages to the mayor.

In return, the mayor and city agreed to pay $8 million to Brown, Nelthrope and Stefani. An additional $400,000 was paid to Walt Harris, another former Kilpatrick bodyguard who had a separate whistle-blower case pending against Kilpatrick. Legal costs drove the total taxpayer cost to more than $9 million.

McCargo, city staff lawyer Valerie Colbert-Osamuede and Wilson Copeland II, a Detroit lawyer hired by the city, all signed the agreement. McCargo signed for the mayor.

"It is a contract. Signed, sealed and delivered," Stefani said in his deposition.

But there was an out. The deal gave each side a deadline to reject the deal. Kilpatrick had until Oct. 27.

The next day, on Oct. 18, Kilpatrick announced the surprise settlement, explaining that soul-searching led him to drop his planned appeal.

"Since the verdict, I've listened to pastors, business leaders and so many Detroiters who genuinely love and care about me and this city," Kilpatrick said in a statement. "I've humbly concluded that a settlement ... is the correct decision for my family and the entire Detroit community."

That same day, Johnson, the city's lawyer, and Colbert-Osamuede, his chief assistant, urged the City Council to approve the $8.4-million settlement, saying it was in the best interest of the city.

The eight-page confidential memo to the council that Colbert-Osamuede wrote, and Johnson approved, said nothing about the text messages. Colbert-Osamuede, for her part, would later deny in court she had any knowledge of a secret agreement.

The council, eager to end the litigation, approved the settlement Oct. 23.

Meanwhile, the Free Press had filed a Freedom of Information Act request to see the settlement deal.

As Stefani described later, that was a problem for Kilpatrick and his lawyers. By honoring the newspaper's request, as he was bound to do under state law, the mayor would be tipping the Free Press to the concealed text messages.

So Kilpatrick took steps to remedy the problem.

Ten days after approving the agreement, Kilpatrick rejected it, without any public announcement or explanation.

Stefani explained why in his deposition: "My understanding was that the reason they rejected the Oct. 17 settlement agreement was that they had received a Freedom of Information Act and it dawned on somebody that they didn't want the text messages referenced in the settlement agreement."

Kilpatrick's rejection set the stage for an official response by the city to the newspaper's request to see the settlement documents.

City lawyer Ellen Ha sent the Free Press a letter dated Oct. 29 rejecting the paper's request. Ha's explanation: No settlement documents existed.

With the newspaper's request sidestepped, the parties began crafting a new deal, one designed to avoid public disclosure of the texts.

By Nov. 1, they had a new settlement in writing. But now there were two parts. The first was an agreement, scrubbed clean of any text message references, that could be released publicly. The second part, labeled "Confidentiality Agreement," purported to be a private pact among Stefani, his clients and Kilpatrick and Beatty, who indicated they signed the deal as private individuals, not public servants.

This side agreement was never released to the Free Press, or shared with the City Council.

Under the secret deal, Stefani and the former cops would have to pay back the settlement money if they ever spoke of the text messages.

And with their terms signed in writing, both sides agreed to stash the text messages for temporary safe-keeping until the settlement money was paid.

The parties settled on a Comerica Bank branch across the street from Detroit's municipal center. They leased a safe-deposit box -- No. 323. Each side had its own key. They agreed in writing not to access the box outside the presence of the other side.

The text messages remained tucked inside until at least Dec. 5, the day after final payment of the $8.4 million went to Stefani and his clients.

Soon after, Stefani said in his deposition, he sent his son to turn over his key to one of the mayor's lawyers.

And that was supposed to be the last anyone ever heard of Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick's text messages.

Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin wrote in her line-item veto changes by hand in this copy of a 2008 spending bill obtained by The Washington Post.

By Paul Kane

ST. PAUL -- Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin, the Republican vice-presidential nominee who revealed Monday that her 17-year-old daughter is pregnant, earlier this year used her line-item veto to slash funding for a state program benefiting teen mothers in need of a place to live.

After the legislature passed a spending bill in April, Palin went through the measure reducing and eliminating funds for programs she opposed. Inking her initials on the legislation -- "SP" -- Palin reduced funding for Covenant House Alaska by more than 20 percent, cutting funds from $5 million to $3.9 million. Covenant House is a mix of programs and shelters for troubled youths, including Passage House, which is a transitional home for teenage mothers.

According to Passage House's web site, its purpose is to provide "young mothers a place to live with their babies for up to eighteen months while they gain the necessary skills and resources to change their lives" and help teen moms "become productive, successful, independent adults who create and provide a stable environment for themselves and their families."

Palin's own daughter, Bristol, is five months pregnant and has plans to wed.

"Bristol and the young man she will marry are going to realize very quickly the difficulties of raising a child, which is why they will have the love and support of our entire family," Palin said in a statement released by the McCain campaign. "We ask the media to respect our daughter and Levi's privacy, as has always been the tradition of children of candidates."

Earlier today the Associated Press reported that Sen. John McCain (Ariz.), the presumptive Republican presidential nominee, opposed funding to prevent teen pregnancies, a position that Palin also took as governor. "The explicit sex-ed programs will not find my support," she wrote in a 2006 questionnaire distributed among gubernatorial candidates.

Reporters asked McCain in November 2007 whether he supported grants for sex education in the United States, whether such programs should include directions for using contraceptives and whether he supports President Bush's policy of promoting abstinence.

"Ahhh, I think I support the president's policy," McCain said.

By Barton Gellman
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, September 14, 2008

This is the first of two stories adapted from "Angler: The Cheney Vice Presidency," to be published Tuesday by Penguin Press. Original source notes are denoted in [brackets] throughout.

A burst of ferocity stunned the room into silence. No other word for it: The vice president's attorney was shouting.

"The president doesn't want this! [1] You are not going to see the opinions. You are out . . . of . . . your . . . lane!"

Five government lawyers had gathered around a small conference table in the Justice Department command center. Four were expected. David S. Addington, counsel to Vice President Cheney, got wind of the meeting and invited himself.

If Addington smelled revolt, he was not far wrong. Unwelcome questions about warrantless domestic surveillance had begun to find their voice.

Cheney and his counsel would struggle for months to quash the legal insurgency. By the time President Bush became aware of it, his No. 2 had stoked dissent into flat-out rebellion. The president would face a dilemma, and the presidency itself a historic test. Cheney would come close to leading them off a cliff, man and office both [2].

On this second Monday in December 2003, Addington's targets were a pair of would-be auditors from the National Security Agency. He had displeasure to spare for their Justice Department hosts.
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Perfect example, right here. A couple of NSA bureaucrats breeze in and ask for the most sensitive documents in the building. And Justice wants to tell them, Help yourselves? This was going to be a very short meeting.

Joel Brenner and Vito Potenza, the two men wilting under Addington's wrath, had driven 26 miles from Fort Meade, the NSA's eavesdropping headquarters in Maryland. They were conducting a review of their agency's two-year-old special surveillance operation. They already knew the really secret stuff [3]: The NSA and other services had been unleashed to turn their machinery inward, collecting signals intelligence inside the United States. What the two men didn't know was why the Bush administration believed the program was legal.

It was an awkward question. Potenza, the NSA's acting general counsel, and Brenner, its inspector general, were supposed to be the ones who kept their agency on the straight and narrow. That's what Cheney and their boss, Lt. Gen. Michael V. Hayden, told doubters among the very few people who knew what was going on. Cheney, who chaired briefings for select members of Congress, said repeatedly that the NSA's top law and ethics officers -- career public servants -- approved and supervised the surveillance program.

That was not exactly true, not without one of those silent asterisks that secretly flip a sentence on its tail. Every 45 days, after Justice Department review, Bush renewed his military order for warrantless eavesdropping. Brenner and Potenza told Hayden that the agency was entitled to rely on those orders [4]. The United States was at war with al-Qaeda, intelligence-gathering is inherent in war, and the Constitution appoints the president commander in chief.

But they had not been asked to give their own written assessments of the legality of domestic espionage. They based their answer in part on the attorney general's certification of the "form and legality" of the president's orders. Yet neither man had been allowed to see the program's codeword-classified legal analyses [5], which were prepared by John C. Yoo, Addington's close ally in the Justice Department's Office of Legal Counsel. Now they wanted to read Yoo's opinions for themselves [6].

"This is none of your business!" Addington exploded.

He was massive in his swivel chair, taut and still, potential energy amping up the menace. Addington's pugnacity was not an act. Nothing mattered more, as the vice president and his lawyer saw the world, than these new surveillance tools. Bush had made a decision. Debate could only blow the secret, slow down vital work, or call the president's constitutional prerogatives into question.

The NSA lawyers returned to their car empty-handed.

* * *

The command center of "the president's program," as Addington usually called it, was not in the White House. Its controlling documents, which gave strategic direction to the nation's largest spy agency, lived in a vault across an alley from the West Wing [7] -- in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building, on the east side of the second floor, where the vice president headquartered his staff.

The vault was in EEOB 268, Addington's office. Cheney's lawyer held the documents, physical and electronic, because he was the one who wrote them. New forms of domestic espionage were created and developed over time in presidential authorizations that Addington typed on a Tempest-shielded computer across from his desk [8].

It is unlikely that the history of U.S. intelligence includes another operation conceived and supervised by the office of the vice president. White House Chief of Staff Andrew H. Card Jr. had "no idea," he said, that the presidential orders were held in a vice presidential safe. An authoritative source said the staff secretariat, which kept a comprehensive inventory of presidential papers, classified and unclassified, possessed no record of these.

In an interview, Card said the Executive Office of the President, a formal term that encompassed Bush's staff but not Cheney's, followed strict procedures for handling and securing presidential papers.

"If there were exceptions to that, I'm not aware of them," he said. "If these documents weren't stored the right way or put in the right places or maintained by the right people, I'm not aware of it."

Asked why Addington would write presidential directives, Card said, "David Addington is a very competent lawyer." After a moment he added, "I would consider him a drafter, not the drafter [9]. I'm sure there were a lot of smart people who were involved in helping to look at the language and the law."

Not many, it turned out. Though the president had the formal say over who was "read in" to the domestic surveillance program, Addington controlled the list in practice, according to three officials with personal knowledge. White House counsel Alberto R. Gonzales was aware of the program, but was not a careful student of the complex legal questions it raised. In its first 18 months, the only other lawyer who reviewed the program was John Yoo.

By the time the NSA auditors came calling, a new man, Jack L. Goldsmith, was chief of the Justice Department's Office of Legal Counsel. Soon after he arrived on Oct. 6, 2003, the vice president's lawyer invited him to EEOB 268. Addington pulled out a folder with classification markings that Goldsmith had never seen [10].

"David Addington was doing all the legal work. All the important documents were kept in his safe [11]," Goldsmith recalled. "He was the one who first briefed me."

Goldsmith's new assignment gave him final word in the executive branch on what was legal and what was not. Addington had cleared him for the post -- "the biggest presence in the room," Goldsmith said, during a job interview ostensibly run by Gonzales.

Goldsmith did not have the looks of a guy who posed a threat to the Bush administration's alpha lawyer. A mild-mannered law professor from the University of Chicago, he was rumpled and self-conscious, easy to underestimate. On first impression, he gave off a misleading aura of softness. Goldsmith had lettered in football, baseball and soccer at the Pine Crest School in Fort Lauderdale, Fla., [12] spending his formative years with a mob-connected Teamster who married his mother [13]. He was not a bare-knuckled brawler in Addington's mold, but Goldsmith arrived at Justice with no less confidence and strength of will.

Addington's behavior with the NSA auditors was "a wake-up call for me," Goldsmith said. Cheney and Addington, he came to believe, were gaming the system, using secrecy and intimidation to prevent potential dissenters from conducting an independent review.

"They were geniuses at this," Goldsmith said. "They could divide up all these problems in the bureaucracy, ask different people to decide things in their lanes, control the facts they gave them, and then put the answers together to get the result they want."

Dec. 9, 2003, the day of the visit from Brenner and Potenza, was the beginning of the end of that strategy. The years of easy victory were winding down for Cheney and his staff.

* * *

Goldsmith began a top-to-bottom review of the domestic surveillance program, taking up the work begun by a lawyer named Patrick F. Philbin after John Yoo left the department. Like Yoo and Goldsmith, Philbin had walked the stations of the conservative legal establishment: Federalist Society, a clerkship with U.S. Circuit Judge Laurence H. Silberman, another with Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas.

The more questions they asked, the less Goldsmith and Philbin liked the answers. Parts of the program fell easily within the constitutional powers of the commander in chief. Others looked dicier.

The two lawyers worked at the intersection of three complex systems: telecommunications, spy technology, and the statutory regimes that governed surveillance. After a few weeks, Goldsmith said, he decided the program "was the biggest legal mess I'd seen in my life."

He asked for permission to read in Attorney General John D. Ashcroft's new deputy, James B. Comey [14]. As always, he found Addington waiting with Gonzales in the White House counsel's corner office, one floor up from the chief of staff. They sat in parallel wing chairs, much as Bush and Cheney did in the Oval Office.

"The attorney general and I think the deputy attorney general should be read in," Goldsmith said.

Addington replied first.

"Forget it," he said.

"The president insists on strict limitations on access to the program," Gonzales agreed.

Weeks passed. Goldsmith kept asking. Addington kept saying no.

"He always invoked the president, not the vice president," Goldsmith said [15].

Comey was not exactly Mr. Popular at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. He had arrived at Justice as a 6-foot-8 golden boy, smooth and polished, with top chops as a federal terrorism prosecutor in Northern Virginia and New York City. Then came Dec. 30, 2003. Comey did something unforgivable: He appointed an independent counsel to investigate the leak of Valerie Plame's identity as a clandestine CIA officer, a move that would bring no end of grief for Cheney.

In late January, Goldsmith and Addington cut a deal. Comey would get his read-in. Goldsmith would get off the fence about the program, giving his definitive answer by the March 11 deadline.

"You're the head of the Office of Legal Counsel, and if you say we cannot do this thing legally, we'll shut it off," Addington told him [16].

Feel free to tell the president that his most important intelligence operation has to stop.

Your call, Jack.

Goldsmith wanted to fix the thing, not stop it. He and Philbin traveled again and again to Fort Meade, each time delving deeper. They were in and out of Gonzales's office, looking for adjustments in the program that would bring it into compliance with the law. The issues were complex and remain classified. Addington bent on nothing, swatting back every idea. Gonzales listened placidly, sipping Diet Cokes from his little refrigerator, encouraging the antagonists to keep things civil.

There would be no easy out, no middle ground. Addington made clear that he did not believe for a moment that Justice would pull the plug.

* * *

Mike Hayden and Vito Potenza drove down from NSA headquarters after lunch on Feb. 19, 2004, to give Jim Comey his first briefing on the program. In the Justice Department's vault-like SCIF, a sensitive compartmented information facility, Hayden got Comey's attention fast.

"I'm so glad you're getting read in, because now I won't be alone at the table when John Kerry is elected president," the NSA director said [17].

The witness table, Hayden meant. Congressional hearing, investigation of some kind. Nothing good. Kerry had the Democratic nomination just about locked up and was leading Bush in national polls. Hardly anyone in the intelligence field believed the next administration would climb as far out on a legal limb as this one had.

"Hayden was all dog-and-pony, and this is probably what happened to those poor folks in Congress, too," Comey told his chief of staff after the briefing. "You think for a second, 'Wow, that's great,' and then if you try actually to explain it back to yourself, you don't get it. You scratch your head afterward and you think, 'What the hell did that guy just tell me?' "

The NSA chief insisted on limiting surveillance to e-mails, phone calls and faxes in which one party was overseas, deflecting arguments from Cheney and Addington that he could just as well collect communications inside the United States.

That was one reason Hayden hated when reporters referred to "domestic surveillance." He made his point with a folksy analogy: He had taken "literally hundreds of domestic flights," he said, and never "landed in Waziristan." That sounded good. But the surveillance statutes said a warrant was required if either end of the conversation was in U.S. territory. The American side of the program -- the domestic surveillance -- was its distinguishing feature.

By the end of February, Goldsmith and Philbin had reached their conclusion: Parts of the surveillance operation had no support in law. Comey was so disturbed that he drove to Langley one evening to compare notes with Scott W. Muller, the general counsel at the CIA. Muller "got it immediately," agreeing with the Goldsmith-Philbin analysis, Comey said.

"At the end of the day, I concluded something I didn't ever think I would conclude, and that is that Pat Philbin and Jack Goldsmith understood this activity much better than Michael Hayden did," he said.

On Thursday, March 4, Comey brought the findings to Ashcroft, conferring for an hour one-on-one. Three senior Justice Department officials said in interviews that Ashcroft gave his full backing. He was not going to sign the next presidential order -- due in one week, March 11 -- unless the White House agreed to a list of required changes.

* * *

A few hours later, Ashcroft was reviewing notes for a news conference in Alexandria when his color changed and he sat down heavily. An aide, Mark Corallo, ducked out and returned to find the attorney general laid out on his back. By nightfall, Ashcroft was taken to George Washington University Medical Center in severe pain, suffering acute gallstone pancreatitis. Comey became acting attorney general on Friday.

The next day -- Saturday, March 6, five days before the March 11 deadline -- Goldsmith brought the Justice Department verdict to the White House. He told Gonzales and Addington for the first time that Justice would not certify the program.

A long silence fell. It lasted three full days.

Gonzales phoned Goldsmith at home before sunrise on Tuesday, March 9, with two days left before the program expired. Obviously there was bad chemistry with Addington. Why not come in and talk, he asked, just the two of us?

Goldsmith arrived at the White House in morning twilight. Alone in his office, Gonzales begged the OLC chief to reconsider. Gonzales tried to dispute Goldsmith's analysis, but he was in over his head. At least let us have more time, he said. Goldsmith said he couldn't do that.

The time had come for the vice president to step in. Proxies were not getting the job done. Cheney was going to have to take hold of this thing himself.

Even now, after months of debate, Cheney did not enlist the president. Bush was across the river in Arlington, commending the winners of the Malcolm Baldrige awards for quality improvement in private industry [18]. Campaign season had come already, and the president was doing a lot of that kind of thing. That week he had a fundraiser in Dallas, a "Bush-Cheney 2004 event" in Santa Clara, Calif., and a meet-and-greet at a rodeo in Houston.

Soon after hearing what had happened between Goldsmith and Gonzales, the vice president asked Andy Card to set up a meeting at noon with Mike Hayden, FBI Director Robert S. Mueller III, and John McLaughlin from the CIA (substituting for his boss, George J. Tenet). Cheney spoke to them in Card's office, the door closed.

Four hours later, at 4 p.m., the same cast reconvened. This time the Justice contingent was invited. Comey, Goldsmith and Philbin found the titans of the intelligence establishment lined up, a bunch of grave-faced analysts behind them for added mass. The spy chiefs brought no lawyers. The law was not the point. This meeting, described by officials with access to two sets of contemporaneous notes, was about telling Justice to set its qualms aside.

The staging had been arranged for maximum impact. Cheney sat at the head of Card's rectangular table, pivoting left to face the acting attorney general. The two men were close enough to touch. Card sat grimly at Cheney's right, directly across from Comey. There was plenty of eye contact all around.

This program, Cheney said, was vital. Turning it off would leave us blind. Hayden, the NSA chief, pitched in: Even if the program had yet to produce blockbuster results, it was the only real hope of discovering sleeper agents before they could act.

"How can you possibly be reversing course on something of this importance after all this time?" Cheney asked [19].

Comey held his ground. The program had to operate within the law. The Justice Department knew a lot more now than it had before, and Ashcroft and Comey had reached this decision together.

"I will accept for purposes of discussion that it is as valuable as you say it is," Comey said. "That only makes this more painful. It doesn't change the analysis. If I can't find a lawful basis for something, your telling me you really, really need to do it doesn't help me."

"Others see it differently," Cheney said.

There was only one of those, really. John Yoo had been out of the picture for nearly a year. It was all Addington.

"The analysis is flawed, in fact facially flawed," Comey said. "No lawyer reading that could reasonably rely on it."

Gonzales said nothing. Addington stood by the window, over Cheney's shoulder. He had heard a bellyful.

"Well, I'm a lawyer and I did," Addington said, glaring at Comey.

"No good lawyer," Comey said [20].

In for a dime, in for a dollar.

Addington started disputing the particulars. Now he was on Jack Goldsmith's turf. From across the room the head of the Office of Legal Counsel jumped in. And right there in front of the big guys, the two of them bickered in the snarly tones of a couple who knew all of each other's lines.

* * *

As the sun went down on Tuesday, March 9, the president of the United States had yet to learn that his Justice Department was heading off the rails. A train wreck was coming, but Cheney wanted to handle it. Neither Card nor Gonzales was in the habit of telling him no.

"I don't think it would be appropriate for the president to be engaged in the to-and-fro until it is, you know, penultimate," Card said in a recent interview [21]. "I guess the definition of 'penultimate' could vary from four steps to three steps to two steps to one step. That's why you have White House counsel and people who do the legal work."

Participants in the afternoon meeting, including some of Cheney's recruits, left the room shaken. Mueller worked for the attorney general, and the FBI's central mission was to "uphold and enforce the criminal laws of the United States." Hayden's neck, and his agency, were on the line. The NSA director believed in the program, believed he was doing the right thing. But keep on going when the Justice Department said no?

Early the next morning -- Wednesday, March 10, with 24 hours to deadline -- Hayden was back in the White House. One colleague saw him conferring in worried whispers with Homeland Security adviser John A. Gordon, a mentor and fellow Air Force general, much the senior of the two. They huddled in the West Wing lobby, Hayden on a love seat and Gordon in a chair [22].

Jim Comey was in the White House that morning, too, arriving early for the president's regular 8:30 terrorism brief. He had heard nothing since the discouraging meeting the day before.

Comey found Frances Fragos Townsend, an old friend, waiting just outside the Oval Office, standing by the appointment secretary's desk. She was Bush's deputy national security adviser for combating terrorism. Comey had known her since their days as New York mob prosecutors in the 1980s. Since then, Townsend had run the Justice Department's intelligence office. She lived and breathed surveillance law.

Comey took a chance. He pulled her back out to the hallway between the Roosevelt Room and the Cabinet Room.

"If I say a word, would you tell me whether you recognize it?" he asked quietly.

He did. She didn't. The program's classified code name left her blank. Comey tried to talk around the subject.

"I think this is something I am not a part of," Townsend said [23]. "I can't have this conversation." Like John Gordon and deputy national security adviser Steven J. Hadley and Homeland Security Secretary Tom Ridge, she was out of the loop [24].

Oh, God, Comey remembers thinking. They've held this so tight. Even Fran Townsend. The president's counterterrorism adviser is not read in? Comey towered over his diminutive friend. He chose his words carefully.

"I need to know," he said, "whether your boss recognizes that word, and whether she's read in on a particular program. Because we had a meeting here yesterday on that topic that I would have expected her to be at."

He meant national security adviser Condoleezza Rice. Comey was hoping for an ally, or maybe rescue.

"I felt very alone, with some justification," Comey recalled. "The attorney general is in intensive care. There's a train coming down the tracks that's about to run me and my career and the Department of Justice over. I was exploring every way to get off the tracks I could."

Townsend had a pretty good guess about what was on Comey's mind. Cheney had kept her out of the loop, but it was hard to hide a warrantless domestic surveillance program completely from the president's chief terrorism adviser.

"I'm not the right person to talk to," she told her friend, her voice close to a whisper. Comey ought to go see Rice.

"I'm going to tell her you've got concerns," Townsend said.

Comey's concerns no longer interested Cheney. The vice president had tried to back him down. That didn't work.

Only one day remained before the surveillance program expired. Time for Cheney to take the fight somewhere else.

By Barton Gellman
Washington Post Staff Writer
Monday, September 15, 2008

This is the second of two stories adapted from "Angler: The Cheney Vice Presidency," to be published Tuesday by Penguin Press. Original source notes are denoted in [brackets] throughout.

Vice President Cheney convened a meeting in the Situation Room at 3 p.m. on Wednesday, March 10, 2004, with just one day left before the warrantless domestic surveillance program was set to expire. Around him were National Security Agency Director Michael V. Hayden, White House counsel Alberto R. Gonzales and the Gang of Eight -- the four ranking members of the House and the Senate, and the chairmen and vice chairmen of the intelligence committees.

Even now, three months into a legal rebellion at the Justice Department, President Bush was nowhere in the picture [1]. He was stumping in the battleground state of Ohio, talking up the economy.

With a nod from Cheney, Hayden walked through the program's vital mission [2]. Gonzales said top lawyers at the NSA and Justice had green-lighted the program from the beginning. Now Attorney General John D. Ashcroft was in the hospital, and James B. Comey, Ashcroft's deputy, refused to certify that the surveillance was legal.

That was misleading at best. Cheney and Gonzales knew that Comey spoke for Ashcroft as well. They also knew, but chose not to mention, that Jack L. Goldsmith, chief of the Office of Legal Counsel at Justice, had been warning of major legal problems for months.

More than three years later, Gonzales would testify that there was "consensus in the room" from the lawmakers, "who said, 'Despite the recommendation of the deputy attorney general, go forward with these very important intelligence activities.' [3] " By this account -- disputed by participants from both parties -- four Democrats and four Republicans counseled Cheney to press on with a program that Justice called illegal.

In fact, Cheney asked the lawmakers a question that came close to answering itself. Could the House and Senate amend surveillance laws without raising suspicions that a new program had been launched? The obvious reply became a new rationale for keeping Congress out.

The Bush administration had no interest in changing the law, according to U.S. District Judge Royce C. Lamberth, chief of the federal government's special surveillance court when the warrantless eavesdropping began.

"We could have gone to Congress, hat in hand, the judicial branch and the executive together, and gotten any statutory change we wanted in those days, I felt like," he said in an interview. "But they wanted to demonstrate that the president's power was supreme."

* * *

Late that Wednesday afternoon, Bush returned from Cleveland. In early evening, the phone rang at the makeshift FBI command center at George Washington University Medical Center, where Ashcroft remained in intensive care. According to two officials who saw the FBI logs, the president was on the line [4]. Bush told the ailing Cabinet chief to expect a visit from Gonzales and White House Chief of Staff Andrew H. Card Jr.

A Senate hearing in 2007 described some of what happened next. But much of the story remained untold [5].

Alerted by Ashcroft's chief of staff, Comey, Goldsmith and FBI Director Robert S. Mueller III raced toward the hospital, abandoning double-parked vehicles and running up a stairwell as fast as their legs could pump.

Comey reached Ashcroft's bedside first. Goldsmith and his colleague Patrick F. Philbin were close behind. Now came Card and Gonzales, holding an envelope. If Comey would not sign the papers, maybe Ashcroft would.

The showdown with the vice president the day before had been excruciating, the pressure "so great it could crush you like a grape," Comey said [6]. This was worse.

Was Comey going to sit there and watch a barely conscious man make his mark? On an order that he believed, and knew Ashcroft believed, to be unlawful?

Unexpectedly, Ashcroft roused himself. Previous accounts have said he backed his deputy. He did far more than that. Ashcroft told the president's men he never should have certified the program in the first place [7].

"You drew the circle so tight I couldn't get the advice that I needed," Ashcroft said, according to Comey. He knew things now, the attorney general said, that he should have been told before. Spent, he sank back in his bed.

Mueller arrived just after Card and Gonzales departed. He shared a private moment with Ashcroft, bending over to hear the man's voice.

"Bob, I'm struggling," Ashcroft said.

"In every man's life there comes a time when the good Lord tests him," Mueller replied. "You have passed your test tonight."

* * *

Goldsmith was out the door. He telephoned Ed Whelan, his deputy, who was at home bathing his children.

"You've got to get into the office now," Goldsmith said. "Please draft a resignation letter for me. I can't tell you why."

All hell was breaking loose at Justice. Lawyers streamed back from the suburbs, converging on the fourth-floor conference room. Most of them were not cleared to hear the details, but a decision began to coalesce: If Comey quit, none of them were staying.

At the FBI, they called Mueller "Bobby Three Sticks," playfully tweaking the Roman numerals in his fancy Philadelphia name. Late that evening, word began to spread. It wasn't only Comey. Bobby Three Sticks was getting ready to turn in his badge.

Justice had filled its top ranks with political loyalists. They hoped to see Bush reelected. Had anyone explained to the president what was at stake?

Whelan pulled out his BlackBerry. He fired off a message to White House staff secretary Brett Kavanaugh, a friend whose position gave him direct access to Bush.

"I knew zilch about what the matter was, but I did know that lots of senior DOJ folks were on the verge of resigning," Whelan said in an e-mail [8], declining to discuss the subject further. "I thought it important to make sure that the president was aware of that situation so that he could factor it in as he saw fit."

Kavanaugh had no more idea than Whelan, but he passed word to Card.

The timing was opportune. Just about then, around 11 p.m., Comey responded to an angry summons from the president's chief of staff. Whatever Card was planning to say, he had calmed down suddenly.

What was all this he heard, Card asked, about quitting?

"I don't think people should try to get their way by threatening resignations," Comey replied [9]. "If they find themselves in a position where they're not comfortable continuing, then they should resign."

"He obviously got the gist of what I was saying," Comey recalled.

It was close to midnight when Comey got home, long past the president's bedtime. Bush had yet to learn that his government was coming apart.

Trouble was spreading. The FBI's general counsel, Valerie E. Caproni, and her CIA counterpart, Scott W. Mueller, told colleagues they would leave if the president reauthorized the program over Justice Department objections [10].

Assistant Attorney General Christopher A. Wray, who ran Justice's criminal division, stopped Comey in a hallway.

"Look, I don't know what's going on, but before you guys all pull the rip cords, please give me a heads-up so I can jump with you," he said.

James A. Baker, the counselor for intelligence, thought hard about jumping, too [11]. Early on, he got wind of the warrantless eavesdropping and forced the White House to disclose it to Lamberth. Later, Baker told Lamberth's successor that he could not vouch that the Bush administration was honoring its promise to keep the chief surveillance judge fully informed.

"I was determined to stay there and fight for what I thought was right," Baker said in an interview [12], declining to say what the fight was about, on or off the record. He had obligations, he said, to the lawyers who worked for him in the Office of Intelligence Policy and Review. "If it had come to this, if people were willing to go to the mat and tolerate the attorney general and deputy attorney general resigning, that's pretty serious. God knows what else they would have come up with."

* * *

At the White House on Thursday morning, the president moved in a bubble so tight that hardly any air was getting in. It was March 11, decision day. If Bush reauthorized the program, he would have no signature from the attorney general. By now that was nowhere near the president's biggest problem.

Many of the people Bush trusted most were out of the picture. Karl Rove was not cleared for the program. Neither was Dan Bartlett or Karen Hughes.

National security adviser Condoleezza Rice had the clearance, but Cheney did not invite her to the meetings that mattered.

Bush gave a speech to evangelicals that morning and left the White House for an after-lunch fundraiser in New York [13]. In whatever time he took to weigh his options, the president had only Cheney, Card and Gonzales to advise him.

The vice president knew exactly where he stood, unswerving in his commitment to keep the program just as it was. Gonzales later told two confidants that he had broken with David S. Addington, Cheney's lawyer, urging Bush to find common ground with Justice. Card, too, told colleagues that he had urged restraint.

"My job was to communicate with the president about the peripheral vision, not just the tunnel vision of the moment," he said, deflecting questions about the details [14].

Did peripheral vision mean a broader view of the consequences?

"Yes," Card replied. "It was like -- I don't want to limit it to this particular matter, but that's part of a chief of staff's job. A lot of people who work in the White House have tunnel vision, and not an awful lot of people have peripheral vision. And I think the chief of staff is one of the people who should have peripheral vision."

Card didn't really need the corner of his eye to see a disaster at hand. Even so, Bush didn't know what his subordinates knew that Thursday morning.

Cheney, Addington, Card and Gonzales had plenty of data. Card had heard the news directly from Comey the night before. On Thursday, the FBI director delivered much the same warning.

For Cheney, it didn't matter much whether one official or 10 or 20 took a walk. Maybe they were bluffing, maybe not. The principle was the same: Do what has to be done.

"The president of the United States is the chief law enforcement officer -- that was the Cheney view," said Bartlett, Bush's counselor, who was later briefed into the program and the events of the day. "You can't let resignations deter you if you're doing what's right."

Cheney and Addington "were ready to go to the mat," he said, and the vice president's position boiled down to this: " 'That's why we're leaders, that's why we're here. Take the political hit. You've got to do it.' "

* * *
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Addington opened the code-word-classified file on his computer. He had a presidential directive to rewrite.

It has been widely reported that Bush executed the March 11 order with a blank space over the attorney general's signature line. That is not correct [15]. For reasons both symbolic and practical, the vice president's lawyer could not tolerate an empty spot where a mutinous subordinate should have signed. Addington typed a substitute signature line: "Alberto R. Gonzales."

What Addington wrote for Bush that day was more transcendent than that. He drew up new language in which the president relied on his own authority to certify the program as lawful. Bush expressly overrode the Justice Department and any act of Congress or judicial decision that purported to constrain his power as commander in chief. Only Richard M. Nixon, in an interview after leaving the White House in disgrace, claimed authority so nearly unlimited [16].

The specter of future prosecutions hung over the program, now that Justice had ruled it illegal.

"Pardon was in the air," said one of the lawyers involved.

It was possible to construct a case, he said, in which those who planned and carried out the program were engaged in a criminal conspiracy. That would be tendentious, this lawyer believed, but with a change of government it could not be ruled out.

"I'm sure when we leave office we're all going to be hauled up before congressional committees and grand juries," Addington told one colleague in disgust.

* * *

Bush signed the directive before leaving for New York around lunchtime on Thursday, March 11, 2004.

Comey got word a couple of hours later. He sat down and typed a letter.

"Over the last two weeks . . . I and the Department of Justice have been asked to be part of something that is fundamentally wrong," he wrote [17]. "As we have struggled over these last days to do the right thing, I have never been prouder of the Department of Justice or of the Attorney General. Sadly, although I believe this has been one of the institution's finest hours, we have been unable to right that wrong. . . . Therefore, with a heavy heart and undiminished love of my country and my Department, I resign as Deputy Attorney General of the United States, effective immediately."

David Ayres, Ashcroft's chief of staff, pleaded with Comey to wait a few days [18]. He was certain that Ashcroft would want to quit alongside him. Comey agreed to hold his letter through the weekend.

Bush was not a man to second-guess himself. By Friday morning, he would need new facts to save him. Somebody, finally, would have to tell him something.

It was Rice, largely in the dark herself, who threw the president a lifeline. She had a few minutes alone with him, shortly before 7:30 a.m., on the day after he renewed the surveillance order. She told Bush about Comey's agitated approach, the day before, to Frances Fragos Townsend, the deputy national security adviser for combating terrorism. This was no way to keep a secret.

"It was a compartmented issue," Rice recalled in an interview [19]. "Obviously, there was a security issue here and not just a legal one, because you didn't want this sort of bumping around."

Rice made a suggestion.

Comey is "a reasonable guy," she told the president. "You really need to make sure that you are hearing these folks out."

An hour later, Comey and Robert Mueller arrived at the White House for the regular 8:30 terrorism briefing. They had a lot to cover: Bombs aboard commuter trains in Madrid had killed 191 people.

Both men told aides that this would be their last day in government. There would be no door-slamming, but the president had made his choice and they had made theirs.

Bush stood as the meeting ended, crossing behind Cheney's chair. Comey moved in the opposite direction, on his way out. He had nearly reached the grandfather clock at the door, two witnesses said, when the president said, "Jim, can I talk to you for a minute? [20]"

Bush nodded toward the private dining room a few steps from his desk, the one he shared with Cheney once a week. This time the vice president was not invited.

"I'll wait for you downstairs," Mueller told Comey.

* * *

By now, around 9:15 Friday morning, Bush knew enough to be nervous about what the acting attorney general might do. That did not mean he planned to reverse himself. One high-ranking adviser said there was still an "optimism that maybe you can finesse your way through this."

Afterward, in conversations with aides, the two men described the meeting in similar terms.

"You don't look well," Bush began.

Oldest trick in the book. Establish dominance, put the other guy off his game [21].

"Well, I feel okay."

"I'm worried about you. You look burdened."

"I am, Mr. President. I feel like there's a tremendous burden on me."

"Let me lift that burden from your shoulders," Bush said. "Let me be the one who makes the decision here."

"Mr. President, I would love to be able to do that."

Bush's tone grew crisp.

"I decide what the law is for the executive branch," he said.

"That's absolutely true, sir, you do. But I decide what the Department of Justice can certify to and can't certify to, and despite my absolute best efforts, I simply cannot in the circumstances."

Comey had majored in religion, William and Mary Class of 1982. He might have made a connection with Bush if he had quoted a verse from Scripture. The line that came to him belonged to a 16th-century theologian who defied an emperor.

"As Martin Luther said, 'Here I stand; I can do no other,' " Comey said. "I've got to tell you, Mr. President, that's where I am."

Now Bush said something that floored Comey.

"I just wish that you weren't raising this at the last minute."

The last minute! He didn't know.

The president kept talking. Not the way it's supposed to work, popping up with news like this. The day before a deadline?

Wednesday. He didn't know until Wednesday. No wonder he sent Card and Gonzales to the hospital.

"Oh, Mr. President, if you've been told that, you have been very poorly served by your advisers," Comey said. "We have been telling them for months we have a huge problem here."

"Give me six weeks," Bush asked. One more renewal.

"I can't do that," Comey said. "You do say what the law is in the executive branch, I believe that. And people's job, if they're going to stay in the executive branch, is to follow that. But I can't agree, and I'm just sorry."

If they're going to stay.

Comey was edging toward a breach of his rule against resignation threats.

This man just needs to know what's about to happen.

"I think you should know that Director Mueller is going to resign today," Comey said.

Bush raised his eyebrows. He shifted in his chair. He could not hide it, or did not try. He was gobsmacked.

"Thank you very much for telling me that," he said.

Comey hurried down to Mueller, who sat in the foyer outside the Situation Room. A Secret Service agent followed close behind. The president would like to see you, the agent told Mueller.

Comey pulled out his BlackBerry and sent a note to six colleagues at 9:27 a.m.

"The president just took me into his private office for a 15 minute one on one talk," he wrote [22]. "Told him he was being misled and poorly served. We had a very full and frank exchange. Don't know that either of us can see a way out. . . . Told him Mueller was about to resign. He just pulled Bob into his office."

The FBI director was no more tractable than Comey. This was a rule-of-law question, he told the president, and the answer was in the Justice Department [23]. The FBI could not participate in operations that Justice held to be in breach of criminal law. If those were his orders, he would respectfully take his leave.

And there it was, unfinessable. Bush was out of running room, all the way out. He had only just figured out that the brink was near, and now he stood upon it.

Not 24 hours earlier, the president had signed his name to an in-your-face rejection of the attorney general's ruling on the law. Now he had two bad choices. March on, with all the consequences. Or retreat.

The president stepped back from the precipice. He gave Mueller a message for Comey.

"Tell Jim to do what Justice thinks needs to be done," he said.

Seven days later, Bush amended his March 11 directive. The legal certification belonged again to the attorney general. The surveillance program stopped doing some things, and it did other things differently. Much of the operation remained in place. Not all of it.

* * *

Because Bush did not walk off the cliff, and because so much of the story was suppressed, an extraordinary moment in presidential history passed unrecognized.

"I mean, it would be damn near unprecedented for the top echelon of your Justice Department to resign over a position you've taken," Bartlett said.

There might be one precedent, he allowed. He did not want to spell it out.

"Not a good one," he said.

During the Watergate scandal, the attorney general and deputy attorney general resigned, refusing to carry out Richard Nixon's order to fire the special prosecutor. Nixon lost his top two Justice officials, and that was called the Saturday Night Massacre.

Bush had come within minutes of losing his FBI director and at least the top five layers at Justice. What would they call that? Suicide, maybe?

"You don't have to be the smartest guy to figure out that [mass resignations] would be pretty much the most devastating thing that could happen to your administration," said Mark Corallo, Ashcroft's communications director and, during Bush's first race for the White House, chief spokesman for the Republican National Committee. "The rush to hearings on the Hill, both in the House and Senate, would be unbelievable. The media frenzy that would have ensued would have been unlike anything we've ever seen. That's when you're getting into Watergate territory."

Long after departing as chief of staff, Card held fast to the proposition that whatever happened was nobody's business, and no big deal anyway [24].

"I think you're writing about something that's irrelevant," Card said. "Voyeurism."

Because?

"Nobody resigned over this," he said. It all boiled down to trash talk: " 'Oh, I was gonna swing at the pitch but it was too high.' "

That seems unlikely to stand as history's verdict. In the fourth year of his presidency, a man who claimed the final word was forced by subordinates to comply with their ruling on the law. Ashcroft, Comey, Goldsmith, Philbin -- believers, one and all, in the "unitary executive branch" -- obliged the commander in chief to stand down. For the first time, a president claimed in writing that he alone could say what the law was. A rebellion, in direct response, became so potent a threat that Bush reversed himself in a day.

"This is the first time when the president of the United States really wanted something in wartime, and tried to overrule the Department of Justice, and the law held," said Goldsmith, after studying similar conflicts under Abraham Lincoln and Franklin D. Roosevelt.

In the aftermath, the White House senior staff asked questions. Was the president getting timely information and advice? Had he relinquished too much control to Cheney?

Bush, aides said, learned something he would not forget. Cheney was the nearest thing to an anti-politician in elected office. Bush could not afford to be like that. In his second term, his second chance, the president would take greater care to consult his own instincts.

"Cheney was not afraid of giving pure, kind of principled advice," Bartlett said. "He thinks from a policy standpoint, and I think he does this out of pure intentions. He thinks of the national security interest or the prerogatives of the executive. The president has other considerations he has to take into account. The political fallout of certain reactions -- he's just going to calculate different than Cheney does."

"He grew accustomed to that," Bartlett said. 

The Washington Post
Saturday, September 13, 2008; 10:37 PM

The following are key documents related to the Bush administration's implementation and defense of the National Security Agency's warrantless domestic surveillance program.

• Conflict Over Spying Led White House to Brink
• A Near-Meltdown
• Key Documents
• About the Series
• Wednesday, Sept. 17 at noon ET: Books: "Angler: The Cheney Vice Presidency"

Thu Sep 11, 2008
By Tom Doggett

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - U.S. Interior Department employees who oversaw oil drilling on federal lands had sex and used illegal drugs with workers at energy companies where they were conducting official business, an internal government report said on Wednesday.

Employees at the department's Minerals Management Service "socialized with, and received a wide array of gifts and gratuities from, oil and gas companies," according to the department's inspector general, Earl Devaney.

"When confronted by our investigators, none of the employees involved displayed remorse," Devaney said.

The alleged activities occurred between 2002 and 2006 and involved 19 former and current workers at the Minerals Management Service's offices in Denver and Washington. Devaney recommended that those still on the job be fired.

The workers were involved in the "royalty-in-kind" program that collects and sells oil and gas turned over by energy companies as royalties for drilling on federal lands. About $4 billion a year in royalty-in-kind oil and gas is collected and sold by the department.

The oil companies named in the report were Chevron, Shell Oil, Hess Corp and Gary Williams Energy Corp. ...

[Update below]

By Tom Doggett
Thu Sep 11, 2008

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - U.S. Interior Secretary Dirk Kempthorne on Thursday said he was "outraged" by department workers who had sex, used drugs and took gifts from employees at regulated oil companies, while one senator called for a Bush administration official to resign over the scandal.

The Interior Department's inspector general issued a scathing report on Wednesday that found "a culture of substance abuse and promiscuity" at the department's Minerals Management Service, whose employees handled billions of dollars in oil and natural gas supplies that were turned over by companies as in-kind royalty payments for drilling on federal lands.

"I am outraged by the immoral behavior, illegal activities, and appalling misconduct of several former and current long-serving career employees in the Minerals Management Service's royalty-in-kind program," Kempthorne said. "We will take swift action to restore the public trust."

Democratic Sen. Bill Nelson of Florida called for the agency's top head, MMS director Randall Luthi, to resign.

In response to the inspector general's report, Luthi had said that "I do not believe Americans have lost financially," but admitted "it is too early to tell" if government workers gave oil companies financial favors at the expense of taxpayers.

In a letter to Kempthorne on Thursday, Nelson asked for all department employees involved in the scandal to be immediately fired and for the secretary to ask Luthi to submit his resignation.

"Besides being a sad commentary on the failures of certain public servants, this case shows us how the oil industry can hold sway over government officials," Nelson said.

Nelson called for hearings into the scandal by the Senate Commerce Committee, on which he serves. The House Resources Committee is planning a hearing on the matter next week.

While not responding directly to the senator's letter, Kempthorne said: "We must and we will eliminate any remaining negative elements in the Minerals Management Service."

In his report, the inspector general said some MMS workers in the royalty-in-kind program took cocaine and marijuana and had "illicit sexual encounters."

Government workers also got drunk at social events with employees of oil companies doing business with the agency and MMS workers had "brief sexual relationships" with industry contacts, the inspector general said.

The oil companies named in the report were Chevron, Shell Oil, Hess Corp and Gary Williams Energy Corp.